A  LILY 


! 


CAROLINE    ATWATER    MASON 


A  LILY  OF  FRANCE 


"  'My  lily  ! '  he  said,  '  my  purest. ' :' 


Page  444 


A   LILY  OF 
FRANCE 

BY 
CAROLINE  ATWATER  MASON 


AUTHOR  OF 

THE  QUIET  KING.  A  WIND  FLOWER, 
A  MINISTER  OF  THE  WORLD.  ETC. 


NEW     YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright  1901  by  the 
AMERICAN  BAPTIST  PUBLICATION  SOCIETY 


Published  December,  1902 


Go  tbe 

Three  Companions  of  my  Pilgrimage  to  the  Scenes  of  this  Story 

The  Friend,  the  Sister,  and  the  Child 

A  LILY  OF  FRANCE 

10  DeDtcateD 


1523807 


70  see  a  man  who  is  willing  to  die  for  love,  who  goes  to  meet 
death  in  the  way,  who  makes  a  boast  of  pain  and  with  perfect 
sweetness  and  sanity  celebrates  defeat — that  is  to  be  witness  of  the 
palpable  infinite 

— Charles  Ferguson 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  CLOISTER i 

II.  THE  THREE  NOVICES 7 

in.  THE  PETIT-MORIN 16 

IV.  THRUST  AND  PARRY 23 

V.  THE  Due  DE  MONTPENSIER  VISITS  HIS  SIS 

TER-IN-LAW    " 31 

VI.  "CETTE  PAUVRE  ENFANT" 42 

VII.  CROSS  AND  STAFF 54 

VIII.  LITTLE  SAINT  SILENCE 58 

IX.  THE  WHITE  ABBESS 74 

X.  MAITRE  TONTORF 86 

XI.  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  A  KINGLY  LINE  ....  99 

XII.  THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  LANGE  DELFT 109 

XIII.  NASSAU-BREDA 126 

XIV.  THE  GREAT  REBEL 140 

XV.  IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  STRANGERS 154 

XVI.  A  SCRAP  OF  PAPER 170 

XVII.  THE  NIGHT  WORK  OF  SENOR  ANASTRO  .  .  185 

xvin.  IN  THE  KING'S  NAME 199 

XIX.  "As  A  WOODCOCK  TO  MINE  OWN  SPRINGE"  204 

XX.  BURG-FRIED 210 

xxi.  NEWS  FROM  BRABANT 221 

vii 


Vlll 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

xxn.  THREE  FLEURS-DE-LIS  ROYAL 227 

xxill.  "THE  AFFAIR  AT  MEAUX" 236 

XXIV.  SUNRISE  ON  THE  ROAD 252 

XXV.  THE  CHAMPION  APPEARS 263 

XVI.  A  DEAD  MAN 279 

XXVII.  THE  ROMANY  WOMAN 293 

XXVIII.  SEVEN  DUTCH  BULBS 312 

XXIX.  MY  LADY'S  CLOAK 323 

XXX.  SHORT  WOOING 341 

xxxi.  AWAKE  AT  LAST 348 

XXXII.  WHITER  THAN  THE  WHITEST 358 

XXXIII.  DOOM     371 

XXXIV.  ROUBICHON  ONCE  MORE 385 

XXXV.  THE  LONELIEST  MAN  IN  EUROPE  ....  399 

XXXVI.  THE  PRINCE  CONVERSES  WITH  His  CAP 

TAIN'S  BRIDE 406 

XXXVII.  AT  THE  KIRMESS 412 

xxxvin.  A  SPIRIT,  YET  A  WOMAN  Too 419 

XXXIX.  "JE  MAINTIENDRAI  " 425 

XL.  THE  BOURBON  LILY  BLOOMS  IN  DUTCH 

SOIL 430 

A  BRIEF   RECORD   OF   SEVEN   HAPPY 

YEARS 433 


A  LILY  OF  FRANCE 


THE   CLOISTER 

PRIME  had  just  been  sung  in  the  Sainte  Cha- 
pelle  of  the  Benedictine  Abbey  of  Notre- 
Dame  de  Jouarre. 

Two  by  two  the  black-robed  sisters  came  out 
through  the  south  transept  door  and  passed  slowly 
out  of  sight  amid  the  vistas  of  the  ancient  cloister. 

Last  of  all  came  two  children,  little  girls  of  ten 
or  eleven  years,  dressed  alike  in  gowns  of  coarse 
white  cloth  fastened  plainly  about  the  throat  and 
falling  to  the  feet,  confined  at  the  waist  by  a  girdle. 
Each  wore  on  her  head  a  white  linen  coif,  from 
which  hung  a  square  of  white  muslin,  forming  a 
short  and  scanty  veil. 

While  at  a  first  glance  these  young  girls  seemed 
to  be  habited  precisely  alike  and  resembled  each 
other  in  general  appearance,  close  observation 
showed  significant  differences  between  them.  The 
taller  of  the  two  appeared  to  be  the  younger,  pos 
sessing  a  more  childlike  contour  of  face  and  a  no 
ticeably  artless  and  even  infantile  sweetness  of 
the  large  and  limpid  blue  eyes.  About  her  mouth, 
however,  lay  a  strongly  marked  expression  of  sub 
mission,  a  curiously  pathetic  patience.  The  face 
lacked  altogether  the  bloom  of  free  and  hardy 
childhood,  having  added  to  its  natural  delicacy  of 
tint  the  peculiar  pallor  of  the  cloister,  a  characteristic 
much  less  marked  in  the  face  of  her  companion. 

i 


Despite  the  traces  of  a  life  of  constant  discipline, 
the  manner  and  bearing  of  this  taller  child  were  dis 
tinguished  by  a  certain  unconscious  but  enchanting 
imperiousness,  a  proud  little  pose  of  the  head  upon 
the  delicate  neck,  a  graceful  firmness  of  carriage, 
while  in  her  friend  was  to  be  seen  the  ordinary 
gaucherie  common  to  her  years.  The  single  differ 
ence  in  the  habit  of  the  child  novitiates  was  in  the 
girdle  which  the  smaller  of  them  wore  simply 
knotted,  while  in  the  case  of  the  other  it  was  fas 
tened  by  a  clasp  showing  the  Bourbon  lily  richly 
wrought  in  gold. 

The  early  morning  sun  shone  down  into  the 
recesses  of  the  gray  old  cloister  and  the  sky  above 
was  unclouded  and  blue  as  midsummer,  although 
the  month  was  October.  The  children  lingered 
and  looked  behind  them  at  the  closed  door,  through 
which  they  had  just  come. 

"  Do  you  think  we  shall  see  her  again  to-day  ?  " 
asked  the  younger  wistfully. 

"Yes,  madame  said  she  would  come  presently 
.and  bring  her  that  we  may  speak  with  her." 

"  Oh,  joy  !  "  cried  the  other,  clasping  her  hands 
with  childish  delight.  "  I  love  her  already,  Jean 
nette.  Do  not  you  ?  " 

Her  friend,  who  had  a  pleasant  little  face  with 
frank  gray  eyes  and  a  nose  decidedly  retrousse, 
looked  up  with  shrewd  inquiry. 

"  If  you  love  her  better  than  you  love  me,  Char 
lotte,  I  shall  hate  her,  you  know,"  she  answered 
quite  simply. 

"  yoilfr,  Jeannette  !  You  are  always  so  sim 
ple.  As  if  I  could  change  my  friends  as  I  do  my 
dresses  !  " 

"Yes,  but  you  do  not  change  them  so  very 
often,"  said  Jeannette  reflectively. 

At  this  moment  the  door  of  the  chapelle  was 
pushed  open  and  a  woman  of  slender  figure  robed 
in  clinging  black  appeared.  Her  outer  robe,  edged 


with  fur,  flowed  over  a  tunic  of  finest  white  wool, 
and  the  furred  sleeves  fell  to  the  ground.  Upon 
her  breast  the  large  jeweled  cross,  and  upon  her 
right  forefinger  the  abbatial  ring,  gave  token  of  the 
rank  of  superieure.  The  patrician  delicacy  of  face 
and  figure  suggested,  however,  rather  the  aristocrat 
than  the  ascetic,  although  both  bore  in  some  degree 
the  stamp  of  cloistral  austerity. 

The  lady  was  leading  by  the  hand  a  third  little 
girl,  apparently  a  year  or  two  older  than  the  two 
novices,  richly  dressed  in  bright  blue  velvet  with 
hanging  sleeves  lined  with  parti-colored  satin,  and  a 
chemisette  and  ruff  of  finest  needlework. 

The  head  of  the  young  stranger  was  bare,  and 
her  dark  hair,  parted  over  the  forehead,  fell  in  soft, 
full  waves  upon  her  shoulders.  Under  the  straight, 
fine  brows  looked  out  a  pair  of  brown,  lustrous 
eyes  ;  the  nose  was  fine  and  small,  the  lips  scarlet, 
with  a  half-defiant,  half-appealing  expression  ;  the 
face  in  tint  a  clear  brunette,  with  warm  color  in 
the  cheeks. 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  this  child  had  thriven, 
for  her  dozen  years  of  life,  on  sun  and  wind  and 
untrammeled  freedom.  The  wild  joy  of  living  ran 
in  her  blood  ;  the  hardihood  of  outdoor  life  had 
given  its  elastic  firmness  to  her  slender  but  vigorous 
frame.  She  looked  like  a  creature  of  a  different 
strain  from  the  cloister-bred  girls,  who  now  stood 
wistfully  watching  the  astonishing  brilliancy  of  her 
face  and  figure. 

"  The  demoiselle  de  Mousson,  my  children,"  said 
the  superieure.  The  smile  with  which  she  spoke 
would  have  been  winning  but  for  a  faint  suggestion 
of  mockery  which  underlay  it.  Speaking  then  to 
the  child,  whose  hand  she  still  held,  she  added, 
indicating  the  younger  of  the  two  novitiates  : 

"  This,  mademoiselle,  is  her  grace  of  Bourbon- 
Montpensier,  the  Princess  Charlotte,  of  whom  the 
Queen  of  Navarre  has  told  you  many  things." 


The  little  maid,  with  a  shy  smile  of  pleasure, 
dropped  upon  her  knees  and  kissed  Charlotte's 
hand.  A  delicate  flush  tinged  the  cheeks  of  the 
young  princess  and  her  face  grew  marvelously 
radiant. 

"Oh,  tell  me  quickly,"  she  exclaimed,  "have 
you  come  even  now  from  Beam  ?  Have  you  seen 
my  cousin  of  Navarre  of  late  ?  Did  she  send  me 
her  greeting  by  you  ?  Why  does  she  not  come  to 
visit  me  ?  And  how  is  Prince  Henri  ?  Have  you 
played  with  him  often  ?  Tell  me  all,  everything." 

"  Gently,  gently,  Charlotte,"  said  madame,  with 
a  touch  of  coldness  in  her  warning  voice.  "You 
ask  many  things  in  one  breath,  and  time  fails  now 
to  make  reply." 

Turning  then  to  the  second  novitiate,  who  had 
stood  slightly  in  the  background,  she  drew  her  for 
ward  and  presented  her  to  the  new-comer  as  Jeanne 
or  Jeannette  Vassetz. 

"  We  have  now  two  Jeannes,"  she  said  with  her 
cold,  quiet  voice,  "  for  this  is  Jeanne  de  Mousson." 

"I  was  named  for  her  majesty  of  Navarre, 
Jeanne  d'Albret,"  said  the  child  proudly.  "She 
is  my  godmother." 

Charlotte  de  Bourbon  clasped  her  hands  in  a 
gesture  of  admiration. 

"Ah,  but  you  are  the  fortunate  one  !  "  she  ex 
claimed. 

Again  madame's  gentle  smile  with  its  faint  shade 
of  mockery.  She  had  herself  stood  sponsor  to 
Charlotte,  who  was  her  sister's  child. 

"  It  is  hardly  possible  for  you  all  to  enjoy  such 
favor  as  that,"  she  said  softly,  and  at  once  led  the 
way  through  the  cloister  to  the  long,  low  range  of 
buildings  on  the  side  opposite  the  chapel. 

Passing  from  the  early  sunlight  through  a  long 
corridor  with  bare  stone  floor  and  dimly  frescoed 
walls,  she  entered  the  refectory  followed  by  the 
three  children,  Jeanne  de  Mousson,  in  her  worldly 


5 

dress,  her  unbound  hair,  and  her  rich  coloring,  look 
ing,  beside  the  pale  novices,  like  some  tropical  bird 
of  gorgeous  plumage  which  had  fluttered  down  from 
the  sunshine  and  alighted  beside  a  pair  of  caged 
and  meek  white  doves. 

"  You  may  both  take  your  breakfast  at  my  table 
this  morning,"  madame  said  graciously  to  the  two 
Jeannes.  Charlotte  by  reason  of  her  rank  always 
had  her  seat  at  her  aunt's  right  hand. 

To  the  new-comer,  as  she  followed  the  superieure 
down  the  length  of  it,  the  room  in  which  they  were 
about  to  break  their  fast  was  sombre  and  cold  even 
to  sternness.  The  vaulted  roof,  high  and  dim,  the 
stone  pillars  upholding  it,  the  bare  walls  and  floor, 
the  uncovered  tables  forming  three  sides  of  a  paral 
lelogram,  with  narrow,  unpainted  benches  along  the 
outer  side,  the  rows  of  nuns  standing  motionless  in 
their  black  hoods  and  robes  behind  the  tables,  made 
up  an  ensemble  of  unrelieved  gloom. 

Madame  de  Long-Vic,  for  this  was  the  name  of 
the  abbess  of  Jouarre,  took  her  place  at  the  center 
of  the  table  which  extended  across  the  upper  end 
of  the  room  and  which  was  reserved  for  dignitaries 
and  guests  of  rank.  Standing,  while  a  complete 
hush  fell  upon  them  all,  madame's  clear,  gray  eyes 
scanned  the  rows  of  sisters.  They  all  stood  with 
downcast  eyes,  all  faces  alike  showing  the  monot 
onous  pallor  and  the  expressionless  restraint  of  the 
cloister.  An  instant's  glance  satisfied  the  abbess 
that  all  were  in  their  places  and  she  accordingly 
lifted  the  forefinger  of  her  right  hand,  a  significant 
gesture  followed  by  a  chant  sung  in  full  chorus  by 
the  whole  company.  As  the  sounds  of  the  chant 
died  away,  again  the  forefinger  with  its  symbolic 
ring  was  lifted,  and  at  this  second  sign  all  were 
seated.  Lay  sisters  now  placed  upon  the  tables  the 
portions  of  bread,  water,  and  vegetables  which  con 
stituted  the  breakfast  of  the  order. 

Not  one  word   broke  the   silence.      Jeanne  de 


Mousson,  still  unpractised  in  the  convent  routine,, 
was  about  to  speak  to  Jeannette,  but  was  promptly 
checked  by  the  latter,  who  cast  an  anxious  look 
at  madame's  face  as  she  laid  her  small,  childish 
forefinger  on  the  red  lips  of  the  new  and  alarming 
Jeanne. 

High  up,  on  the  wall  facing  the  table  of  the  siipe- 
rieure,  projected  a  tiny  balcony  furnished  with  a 
reading  desk,  to  which  a  door  gave  access  from  an 
upper  corridor.  This  door  now  softly  opened  and  a 
priest  in  black  gown  entered  the  pulpit,  and  having 
crossed  himself  repeatedly,  opened  a  small  book  and 
proceeded  to  read  aloud  a  sermon  in  Latin  in  a  mo 
notonous  chanting  cadence. 

This  was  Pere  Ruze,  who  for  a  few  months  in  the 
year  1558,  took  the  place  of  confessor-in-residence 
to  the  Abbey  of  Jouarre. 

The  little  Bearnaise,  who  left  her  breakfast  un- 
tasted,  glanced  from  Pere  Ruze  to  Madame  de  Long- 
Vic,  and  thence  her  eyes  passed  down  the  sombre 
rows  of  nuns.  Nowhere  was  light  or  gladness  or 
the  promise  of  them.  Her  glance  then  strayed 
aside  to  the  face  of  Charlotte  de  Bourbon.  She  had 
lived  in  this  drear  place  all  her  life  and  yet  had  kept 
that  celestial  sweetness  of  look.  It  was  after  all,, 
then,  a  life  that  could  be  lived. 


II 

THE  THREE  NOVICES 

IN  the  cloister  garth,  hidden  in  a  dense  mass  of 
laurel  and  palm,  stood  a  small,  marble  statue 
of  the  Virgin  and  child.  Within  the  shrubbery, 
and  surrounding  the  figure  at  a  distance  of  but  a  few 
feet,  ran  a  circular  seat  of  gray  stone,  weather-worn 
and  lichen-covered.  The  place  was  known  as  Our 
Lady's  Arbor. 

Here,  on  the  following  day,  at  the  hour  for  rec 
reation  after  the  early  convent  dinner,  came  the 
three  little  maids  with  chance  at  last  to  chatter. 
Having  said  each  a  hurried  erne  before  the  Virgin, 
they  perched  nimbly  upon  the  old  stone  seat,  the 
new  Jeanne  between  the  others,  who  still  loved  to 
look  at  her  bright  gown,  and  found  pleasure  in 
drawing  their  fingers  through  the  loose  waves  of 
her  unbound  hair.  For  not  until  she  had  passed 
the  first  term  of  her  novitiate  would  the  young 
Bearnaise  assume  the  habit  of  a  religieitse,  which, 
modified  to  suit  their  age,  the  others  had  worn  for 
several  years. 

"This  is  where  we  always  come,"  said  Jean- 
nette  demurely,  feeling  it  incumbent  upon  her  to 
enlighten  the  inexperience  of  the  new-comer.  "  Do 
you  not  think  it  is  very  pretty  ?  " 

Jeanne  de  Mousson  looked  about  her  at  the  stiff, 
glossy  leaves  of  palm  and  laurel  rising  darkly  far 
above  their  heads,  at  the  prim  little  statue,  well- 
scrubbed  and  stony,  and  shook  her  head  slightly. 

"  Do  you  never  run  ?  Can  we  not  go  out  in  the 
fields  and  woods  and  hunt  and  fish  ?  " 

The  two  convent-bred  girls  stared  speechless  for 

7 


8 

a  moment.  Then  Charlotte  de  Bourbon  said  slow 
ly  : 

"  We  can  go  out  in  the  garden  every  day,  and 
we  are  allowed  to  help  gather  roses  for  the  per 
fume-making.  That  is  fine  sport,"  she  added 
almost  timidly,  as  if  fearing  her  mild  pleasures 
would  be  scorned  by  her  new  friend. 

Jeanne  for  answer  dropped  on  both  knees  on  the 
gray  stones  which  paved  the  sombre  arbor,  threw 
her  arms  around  Charlotte's  waist,  and  buried  her 
face  in  her  lap.  The  burnished  waves  of  her  brown 
hair  were  scattered  in  confusion  over  Charlotte's 
white  dress,  her  slender,  gracieuse  frame  was  shaken 
by  sobs. 

"Oh,  Jeanne,  dear,  wild  little  Jeanne,  what 
makes  you  do  so  ?  You  must  not  cry.  Indeed 
you  must  not!"  pleaded  Charlotte  earnestly, 
while  Jeannette,  drawing  near  on  the  stone  seat, 
bent  over  in  deep  concern. 

"  What  ails  her  ?  "  she  framed  with  her  lips 
silently. 

Charlotte  shook  her  head  pensively  for  answer. 

Then  Jeanne  tossed  up  her  head,  shaking  back 
her  hair,  and  with  flushed  face  and  eyes  shining 
with  tears,  sobbed  out : 

"  Oh,  you  darling  princess  !  My  heart  aches 
when  I  think  that  you  have  never  been  free.  You 
make  me  love  you  too  much,  so  that  I  cannot  bear 
it  that  you  are  so  patient,  and  let  them  take  away 
all  the  world  from  you.  To  have  lived  like  this 
always !  Oh,  it  is  too  terrible  !  " 

"  Hush,  Jeanne  !  "  commanded  Charlotte,  with 
a  touch  of  hauteur,  "we  have  all  to  obey  our 
parents,  or  those  who  care  for  us  in  their  place," 
remembering  that  Jeanne  was  an  orphan  child. 
Then,  her  lips  quivering  in  spite  of  herself,  she 
added  :  "  I  can  go  back,  you  know,  once  every  year, 
and  see  my  mother  and  Franchise." 

With  the  name  Franchise  her  own  tears  came 


swiftly  to  the  surface,  but  dashing  them  away  with 
a  swift,  impatient  gesture  and  a  bright  smile  she 
asked  in  a  voice  which  trembled  slightly  : 

"Have  you  been  at  court,  Jeanne?  Because 
you  may  have  seen  my  sister,  Franchise.  And 
then  my  brother,  Francois,  you  must  have  heard 
of  him  ;  he  is  oh,  so  strong  and  tall  already,  and 
more  beautiful  than  any  of  the  Valois  princes. 
Such  a  right  gallant,  soldierly  boy  !  Monsieur  the 
Due  de  Guise  already  wishes  to  have  him  join  the 
army,  and  he  is  sure  to  make  a  great  commander. 
Is  he  not,  Jeannette  ?  "  and  Charlotte  glanced  at 
her  faithful  friend  for  confirmation. 

"Oh,  yes,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  the  prince-dauphin 
is  most  noble  and  debonair.  He  is  like  Mademoi 
selle,  only,  of  course,  not  so  fine." 

It  was  for  the  sake  of  this  ardently  loved  brother 
that  the  little  Bourbon  had  been  placed  in  the  con 
vent  in  her  infancy,  that  so  his  estate,  unencumbered 
by  any  claim  for  her  dowry  or  support,  might  the 
better  befit  his  rank.  The  Bourbons  were  poor. 

There  was  a  brief  silence.  Then  Charlotte 
spoke  again,  noting  the  anxious  faces  of  her  com 
panions. 

"  I  shall  not  have  to  be  here  always,"  she  said 
with  nai've,  childish  confidence.  "  Oh,  most  cer 
tainly  not  !  That  would  be  quite  beyond  my  duty 
and  my  will.  When  Francois  is  well  established, 
then,  you  see,  I  shall  go  back  to  my  mother  and 
live  at  court  and  be  like  the  rest." 

"Oh,  Charlotte!"  exclaimed  Jeannette,  "will 
you  go  away  from  Jouarre,  then,  and  leave  your 
poor  Jeannette  ?  Then  you  will  break  my  heart. 
You  know  I  could  not  live  here  without  you,"  and 
tears  flowed  fast  down  the  good  little  face. 

Charlotte  watched  her,  grieved  and  pondering, 
while  Jeanne  de  Mousson,  standing  before  them, 
looked  from  one  to  the  other  with  flashing  eyes. 

"  No,    your   highness,"   she   exclaimed    softly  ; 


10 

"you  cannot  leave  your  two  Jeannes!  They  will 
follow  you  wherever  you  go.  They  are  yours  !  " 

Suddenly  then  Charlotte  smiled  with  radiant  eyes 
into  the  ardent  face  of  Jeanne. 

"  Yes,"  she  cried,  with  the  impulsive  ardor  of  a 
child,  "  we  belong  together.  I  am  yours.  You 
are  mine.  We  go  and  we  stay  together.  Is  it  a 
pledge  ?  "  and  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  holding  out  a 
hand  to  each, 

"  It  is  a  pledge  !  It  is  a  pledge  !  "  they  cried 
eagerly.  "  Together  we  stay,  together  we  go," 
and  they  all  clasped  hands,  and  then  with  one  ac 
cord  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  upon  their  breasts, 
while  their  faces  grew  grave  and  gentle. 

Then  Charlotte  said  to  Jeanne,  "Now  you  are 
no  more  to  call  me  '  your  highness  '  or  '  your  grace.' 
Let  us  be  all  alike,  for  that  is  as  we  are  before 
God,"  with  which  she  gave  each  a  kiss  in  turn 
with  sweet,  engaging  grace. 

Children  as  they  were  their  souls  knit  together 
for  life  in  that  moment.  Back  again  upon  the  old 
stone  seat  Charlotte  said  : 

"  But  you  have  not  answered  me  my  question, 
Jeanne  de  Mousson.  I  asked  you  long  ago  if  you 
had  ever  been  at  court  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  at  the  court  of  Navarre  ?  For 
there  I  have  been  continually.  Or  at  the  court 
of  France  ?  For  there  I  have  been  once." 

"  Oh,  the  last.     When  were  you  there  ?  " 

"  It  was  last  May,  and  because  I  was  there  is 
the  reason  I  am  here,"  and  Jeanne's  face  grew 
sober. 

"  Tell  us  all  about  it,  as  fast  as  you  can,"  put  in 
Jeannette,  "  for  Sister  Cecile  will  be  coming  after  us 
and  then  it  will  be  time  for  vespers,  and  then  the 
day  is  all  gone  again." 

"Her  majesty,  Jeanne  d'Albret,  you  may  have 
heard,  Charlotte,  went  in  a  great  hurry  to  Paris 
last  May;  the  king  too,  and  Prince  Henri." 


II 

"I  do  not  know  what  took  them  there,"  said 
Charlotte.  "  I  know  my  cousin  likes  far  better  her 
own  small  court  at  Pau  and  Nerac." 

"It  was  all  about  the  new  religion,"  said 
Jeanne,  sinking  her  voice  to  a  whisper.  "Oh, 
there  are  troubles  without  end,"  and  she  shook  her 
head  with  mighty  seriousness. 

"  Is  it  true  that  my  cousin,  Antoine  de  Bourbon, 
permits  heretic  preachers  in  Navarre  ?  "  asked 
Charlotte. 

"Yes,  he  permits  them;  also  he  goes  to  hear 
them,  and  bids  them  to  his  court,  and  his  majesty, 
King  Henri,  grew  very  bitter  in  his  anger,  and  com 
manded  that  such  things  should  be  stopped  at  once. 
Oh,  indeed,  the  king  made  terrible  threats,  such  as 
to  send  an  army  into  Navarre  to  stamp  out  the 
treason,  for  so  he  calls  it." 

"What  said  Jeanne  d'Albret ?  Does  she  also 
like  heretics  ?  "  asked  Charlotte,  plainly  perplexed. 

"  Not  as  her  husband  does  ;  but  you  know  her 
way.  She  is  light-hearted  and  free  and  strong, 
and  likes  to  have  joy  all  about  her.  She  was  not  at 
all  afraid  of  these  mighty  threats  of  King  Henri, 
but  said  she  would  go  to  Paris  at  once  and  see  her 
good  cousin  of  Valois  and  make  better  feeling. 
And  then  it  was  decided  that  the  prince,  Henri, 
should  go  also,  and  madame  took  me  with  her  that 
I  might  see  the  great  city  and  the  palace  of  the 
Louvre  and  all  the  rest.  We  started  the  very  next 
day." 

"And  how  did.  Henri  behave  at  the  French 
court,  Jeanne  ?  "  asked  Charlotte.  "  I  suppose  he 
is  a  fine  boy  by  this  time." 

"He  is  five  years  old,  you  know,"  replied 
Jeanne,  "  and  bright  and  handsome  like  his  mother. 
Every  one  at  the  court  was  charmed  with  his  ways 
— so  bold  and  yet  so  winning.  Oh,  the  queen  knew 
very  well  what  she  did  when  she  took  him  to  King 
Henri  !  His  majesty  was  dark  and  grim  to  us  all  at 


12 

first,  and  it  looked  like  a  gloomy  time  for  every 
body,  until  the  prince  captivated  him  so  wholly  that 
one  day  he  gave  over  all  his  sour  looks  and  called 
Henri  to  him  and  took  him  on  his  knee,  and  even 
asked  him,  only  fancy  it,  if  he  would  be  his  little 
son  ?  " 

"  What  said  Henri  to  that  ?  " 

"You  know  he  does  not  speak  French  well  yet, 
only  Bearnais,  which  I  think  rather  fascinated  his 
majesty.  He  pointed  to  Antoine  of  Bourbon  and 
said,  '  That  is  my  father,'  as  stoutly  as  you  please, 
shaking  his  curly  head  and  laughing  saucily.  He 
is  so  different,  you  see,  from  those  pale,  peaked 
Valois  youths.  The  king  liked  him  for  his  fearless 
ness,  and  so  he  said  then,  and  quite  as  if  he  meant 
it  too,  '  Well,  then,  my  little  Bearnais,  if  you  will 
not  be  our  son  we  shall  have  to  make  you  our  son- 
in-law  ! '  And  to  that  the  prince  said,  '  Oh,  yes, 
that  I  will  be,  sire,  with  all  my  heart !  " 

"How  pretty  of  him,"  said  Charlotte. 

"  Was  it  not  ?  And  it  was  said  all  through  the 
court  afterward  that  the  king  was  in  earnest  and 
that  great  things  may  come  of  this  some  day. 
Every  one  thinks  of  the  tiny  Princess  Marguerite, 
who  is  of  Henri's  age  and  as  bewitching  as  she  can 
be.  Certain  was  it  that  everything  went  beauti 
fully  for  us  after  this  at  court  and  every  one  made 
much  of  us,  and  of  the  little  de  Mousson  with  the 
rest,"  Jeanne  added  mischievously. 

"  But  the  most  wonderful  thing  of  all  was  how 
all  the  fury  about  the  religion  seemed  to  calm  down 
presently.  It  was  but  a  short  time  before  that 
King  Henri  had  sent  for  the  Sieur  d'Andelot,  who 
is  own  brother  of  the  Admiral  of  France,  Coligny, 
and  accused  him  of  holding  the  Reformers'  faith, 
and  when  he  declared  it  was  quite  true  and  so  he 
did,  which  certainly  was  most  rash  of  him,  and 
small  wonder  made  trouble,  his  majesty  threw  a 
plate  at  his  head  and  sent  him  forthwith  to  prison." 


13 

"  Oh,  is  that  the  reason  that  the  Sieur  d'Andelot 
was  sent  under  guard  down  here  to  Meaux  and  is 
now  in  prison  there  ?  "  exclaimed  Jeannette. 

"Oh,  yes.  He  is  a  terrible  heretic,"  returned 
Jeanne  impressively.  "  When  we  heard  of  this  we 
did  not  know  what  might  befall  us  before  we  got 
safely  back  to  Beam,  but  the  king  now  seemed 
strangely  mild,  and  said  almost  nothing  about  the 
religion.  And  no  offense  was  taken  even  when  we 
walked,  all  of  us,  Antoine  de  Bourbon  and  the 
queen  and  all  our  suite  in  the  Pre-aux-Clercs  and 
joined  in  the  singing  of  those  psalms  of  the  Sieur 
Marot  which  all  the  world  has  gone  so  wild  over." 

"  But  you  have  yet  to  tell  us,  Jeanne,"  said  Jean 
nette,  with  a  touch  of  impatience,  "  how  it  befell 
that  by  your  going  to  the  court  of  France  you  had 
to  come  to  the  convent  of  Jouarre." 

"  I  am  just  coming  to  that.  The  trouble  was," 
said  Jeanne  naively,  "that,  alas  for  me,  certain 
stupid  folk  at  the  Louvre  took  it  into  their  heads 
that  the  little  de  Mousson  was  good-looking." 

At  this  Charlotte  and  Jeannette  laughed  the  low, 
repressed  laugh  of  the  convent. 

"Worst  of  all,  it  happened  that  her  majesty 
Queen  Catharine  declared  plainly  that  I  would 
even  make  a  beauty.  Now  you  see  my  poor 
mother  was  one  of  the  ladies  who  followed  in  her 
train  when  she  came  here  from  Italy  to  be  married 
to  the  king.  He  was  but  the  Due  d'Orleans  then, 
you  know,  and  the  Dauphin  yet  living,  and  who 
thought  that  the  daughter  of  the  Medicis  would  ever 
be  queen  of  France  ?  Ah,  how  I  do  run  everything 
together  !  But  Queen  Catharine  did  declare  that 
for  my  mother's  sake  and  all,  she  should  adopt  me 
as  one  of  her  maidens,  and  by  and  by  make  a 
lady-in-waiting  of  me." 

"  Oh,  how  fine  !  "  exclaimed  Charlotte. 

"  Not  fine  at  all,"  said  the  young  Gascon,  shak 
ing  her  head  seriously. 


14 

"Was  her  majesty  quite,  quite  in  earnest?" 
asked  Jeannette,  with  a  shade  of  incredulity  and  a 
measuring  glance  at  the  brilliant  face  of  her  new 
friend.  She  was  pretty,  to  be  sure  ;  but  there 
were  many  as  much  so,  she  reflected. 

"Alas  for  me,  she  was  in  full  earnest,  and 
nothing  can  shake  her  when  her  purpose  is  once 
formed." 

"  But  why  do  you  not  wish  then  to  become  a 
lady-in-waiting  ?  "  said  Jeannette  half-enviously. 
"  I  wish  I  had  such  a  chance." 

"Oh,  no,  dear  Jeannette,"  returned  Jeanne  de 
Mousson,  "you  would  not  if  you  knew  what  it 
means.  Nothing  is  more  terrible  for  a  young  girl 
than  to  win  the  favor  of  the  queen.  You  do  not 
understand.  I  did  not  until  Madame  d'Albret  came 
to  me  that  night  in  my  little  sleeping  closet,  which 
was  off  from  her  chamber,  and  talked  to  me  for  an 
hour." 

As  she  said  this  Jeanne's  bright  face  was  pain 
fully  clouded. 

"  Her  majesty  said  it  was  hard  to  tell  such  dark 
things  to  a  child,  and  put  thoughts  of  evil  and  fear 
into  my  heart ;  but  I  was  a  motherless  girl,  and 
she  alone  must  defend  me.  Queen  Catharine  her 
self  " — and  Jeanne's  voice  dropped  to  a  whisper 
and  a  slight  rustle  in  the  laurel  leaves  passed  unno 
ticed — "  is  as  cold  and  as  virtuous  as  madame  the 
superieure  here.  She  looks  as  if  she  were  cut  out 
of  ivory.  She  has  not  the  sins  of  others  at  court, 
but  she  helps  to  make  others  sin  because  so  she 
can  use  them  and  gain  power  by  them.  Madame 
d'Albret  says  that  the  troop  of  beautiful  demoiselles 
whom  we  saw  always  around  in  the  great  salons 
and  halls  were  to  the  queen  just  like  pawns  on  a 
chess-board.  They  call  them  the  queen's  flying 
squadron.  I  would  rather  die,  girls,  than  be  one 
of  them  !  Now  you  know  why  I  am  here.  It  was 
my  only  escape." 


15 

Tears  stood  in  Charlotte's  sweet  eyes. 

"  How  very  hard  to  leave  dear  Madame  d'Albret 
and  your  bright,  free  life  in  Beam,  "  she  mur 
mured. 

"  Harder  than  I  can  tell,"  replied  the  young 
Bearnaise  choking  back  a  little  sob.  "It  broke  my 
heart  to  leave  her  majesty  ;  and  now  that  I  know 
what  the  convent  is  like,  I  fear  more  than  before 
that  I  never  can  become  a  religieuse." 

"Oh,  Jeanne,  not  even  to  save  your  soul?" 
asked  Jeannette  reprovingly. 

Just  then  the  vesper  bell  began  its  slow  chiming. 
With  the  stroke  which  called  the  three  little  maid 
ens  to  their  feet,  the  figure  of  a  woman  dressed  in 
the  black  robes  of  the  order,  emerged  swiftly  and 
noiselessly  from  the  thicket  of  laurel  forming  Our 
Lady's  Arbor,  and  hastened  to  enter  the  chapel 
door. 

"Eh  bien!"  said  Jeannette,  catching  a  glimpse 
of  her  retreating  figure  as  the  three  came  out  into 
the  cloister,  "there  is  Sister  Cecile  now.  Did  she 
call  us  ?  I  did  not  hear  her." 

Sister  Cecile  Crue  was  the  mistress  of  the 
novices  at  Jouarre. 

That  evening  she  held  a  long  and  secret  confer 
ence  with  the  confessor,  Pere  Ruze,  who  in  turn 
wrote  a  letter  to  monseigneur  the  Due  de  Bourbon- 
Montpensier,  father  of  Charlotte  de  Bourbon. 


Ill 

THE  PETIT-MORIN 

IN  the  garden  of  Jouarre  Abbey  the  beds  of  thyme 
and  lavender,  of  rosemary  and  bay,  were  giving 
forth  their  goodly  odors. 

Late  roses  were  blooming  too,  in  the  garden  of 
Jouarre.  They  showed  brave  and  red  in  the  Oc 
tober  sun,  and  their  odor  was  sweeter  than  all  the 
rest.  Between  the  ranks  of  the  rose-trees  an  el 
derly  nun  with  a  kind,  simple  face  walked  slowly. 
Over  her  hands  gloves  were  clumsily  drawn,  and 
she  carried  a  gTeat  pair  of  garden-shears. 

This  was  Sister  Radegonde,  and  she  had  been  the 
nurse  of  the  Princess  de  Bourbon  since  the  day  she 
was  brought,  a  baby,  to  Jouarre. 

Behind  her,  with  light  feet  and  low  laughter,  came 
the  little  maid  herself,  and  with  her  the  two  Jeannes 
holding  baskets  in  which  they  gathered  up  the  roses 
as  they  fell  beneath  the  shears. 

On  the  southern  border  of  the  garden  were  the 
convent  dove-cotes,  where  the  doves  were  peace 
fully  tripping  about  in  the  sun  with  their  musical 
murmuring.  To  the  west  lay  the  massive  stone 
walls  of  the  refectory  and  dormitory  with  their  pic 
turesque  roofs,  their  latticed  casements  swinging  in 
the  warm  breeze,  their  quaint,  pointed  towers  and 
gables. 

An  ancient  oak,  thickly  festooned  with  mistletoe, 
grew  just  before  the  wide  porch  of  the  cloister, 
whose  gray  columns  and  delicately  carved  arches 
stretched  into  a  dim  and  shadowy  background. 
Beyond  the  cloister  stood  the  beautiful  Sainte 
Chapelle,  with  its  graceful  tower,  and  the  adjacent 
16 


17 

chapter  house,  and  yet  farther  to  the  east  was  the 
cemetery,  studded  thickly  with  small  crosses.  In 
the  midst  of  these  and  high  above  them  all  rose 
the  tall,  imposing  stone  crucifix,  the  ancient  glory 
of  Jouarre,  its  arms  wreathed  with  exquisite  fleu- 
rons  and  bearing  its  double  effigy. 

As  they  lifted  their  eyes  from  their  roses  the 
little  maids  of  Jouarre  looked  beyond  the  tall  cross 
and  the  low  graves  about  it,  beyond  the  chapel  and 
the  enclosing  buttressed  wall,  and  saw  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill  the  Petit-Morin  flashing  between  its 
green  banks  ;  saw  the  fair  glebe  and  the  fruitful 
fields  of  La  Brie  stretching  beyond,  and  longed 
with  the  wild  unspeakable  longing  of  childhood  to 
range  freely  where  they  would. 

"  Now,  my  good  little  helpers,"  said  Sister  Rade- 
gonde,  "  I  have  to  go  into  the  woods.  It  is  just  the 
day  to  gather  the  herbs  and  roots  for  our  cordials, 
and  I  must  make  haste  that  I  may  return  for  ves 
pers." 

"  Where  are  the  woods  ?  "  asked  Jeanne  quickly. 

Sister  Radegonde  pointed  down  the  hillslope  and 
the  smooth  grasslands  where  the  cows  belonging 
to  the  abbey  were  grazing.  Between  these  and 
the  river  was  a  stretch  of  oak  forest  beginning  to 
change  and  grow  brown  and  russet  already. 

"  Oh,  dear,  dear  Radegonde,  let  us  go  with  you," 
exclaimed  Charlotte,  throwing  her  arms  around  the 
withered  neck  of  her  old  nurse  with  a  sudden  irre 
sistible  impulse.  "We  need  to  run  and  stretch 
our  legs,  and  we  will  carry  your  basket,  and  be  per 
fectly  obedient." 

"We  will  dig  the  roots  for  you,  Sister  Rade 
gonde,"  cried  Jeannette.  "We  will  save  your 
poor  back,  if  only  you  will  take  us,  and  you  know 
how  stiff  and  lame  it  has  been  of  late." 

The  sight  of  the  three  wistful,  upturned  faces 
was  too  much  for  the  good  old  soul. 

"  What  harm  can  it  do  ?  "  she  muttered  to  her- 


i8 

self  ;  "  the  saints  bless  their  pretty  hearts  !  Poor 
lambs,  thus  to  beg  for  what  they  ought  to  be  free 
to  do  every  day  of  their  lives  !  "  and  she  bent  down 
and  patted  Charlotte's  pale  cheek. 

"  The  little  Bearnaise  there,  she  has  had  her  fill 
of  sun  and  air  and  chance  enough  to  grow  strong 
and  sturdy  ;  and  Jeannette  too  has  had  her  turn, 
but  my  own  sweet  child,  my  little  white  lily,  has 
never  had  one  free  race  over  the  fields  in  all  her 
blessed  life,"  and  Radegonde  caught  Charlotte  to 
her  breast  and  showered  kisses  on  her  head.  Hers 
was  all  the  motherly  petting  that  the  princely  child 
in  her  loneliness  had  ever  known.  Nevertheless, 
a  mother's  heart  yearned  unceasingly  over  her,  and 
while  it  could  not  speak,  could  not  be  comforted. 

Already,  seeing  Sister  Radegonde  so  favorably 
inclined,  Jeanne  de  Mousson  was  darting  swiftly 
down  toward  the  end  of  the  garden  where  a  small 
wicket  gate  in  the  abbey  wall  gave  exit  to  the  fields 
beyond.  This  gate,  however,  was  closely  locked 
and  barred. 

"Softly,  softly,"  cried  Radegonde.  "What  a 
wild  bird  you  are,  to  be  sure.  I  do  not  know  what 
Sister  Cecile  Crue  will  say." 

"She  went  to  Meaux  this  morning  with  Sister 
Marie  Beauclerc  to  see  the  bishop,  or  some  like 
errand,"  hastily  interposed  Jeannette. 

"That  is  true,"  replied  Radegonde,  plainly  re 
lieved  ;  "  and  madame " 

"  Madame  would  permit  it  this  once,"  urged  Char 
lotte  ;  "  but  she  would  be  greatly  displeased  if  you 
disturbed  her  at  this  hour,  you  know." 

"True  again,  mignonne,"  said  the  old  nun,  and 
she  hastened  to  carry  her  roses  to  the  low  building 
at  the  southern  border  of  the  garden  where  the  op 
erations  of  distilling  perfumes,  cordials,  and  tinc 
tures  were  carried  on  by  the  nuns. 

In  a  few  moments  the  three  children  were  darting 
through  the  gate  unlocked  for  them  by  Radegonde, 


and  racing  like  young  deer  down  the  sloping  pas 
ture  toward  the  woods. 

The  breathless  run  over  the  velvet  softness  of 
the  smooth-cropped  meadow,  the  sense  of  un 
checked  freedom,  of  throwing  her  own  small  person 
into  the  liberal  spaces  whither  she  chose,  birdlike 
and  unbounded,  thrilled  Charlotte  with  an  un 
known  ecstasy.  The  others  forgot  their  own  pleas 
ure  in  watching  the  motions  of  her  lithe  graceful 
limbs,  each  motion  eloquent  of  delight,  while  her 
face  grew  rosy  and  her  large  eyes  brilliant. 

"She  was  born  for  freedom,"  murmured  old 
Radegonde  to  herself.  "  May  I  live  to  see  the  day 

"  but  here  she  bit  her  lips  and  looked  to  see  if 

Jeannette,  who  was  nearest  to  her,  had  heard  her 
words. 

In  the  woods  all  the  doughty  promises  of  work 
were  promptly  forgotten,  and  old  Radegonde's 
back  was  left  to  take  care  of  itself  while  the  chil 
dren  ranged  freely  through  the  underbrush,  gather 
ing  acorns  with  the  instinctive  desire  of  children  to 
appropriate  anything  of  neat  and  elegant  form,  how 
ever  useless,  and  quite  indifferent  to  the  homely, 
serviceable  herbs  for  which  Radegonde  was  faith 
fully  searching. 

Presently  Jeanne  de  Mousson's  trained  and  eager 
eyes  made  a  discovery.  The  woods  grew  to  the 
edge  of  a  bank,  steep  but  not  twenty  feet  high,  at 
the  foot  of  which  flowed  the  Petit-Morin,  hastening 
westward  to  reach  the  Marne.  Down  under  this 
bank,  on  the  river's  edge,  tied  to  a  stake,  lay  a 
small  skiff,  bare  and  empty. 

Jeanne  de  Mousson  clapped  her  hands  with  de 
light. 

"  Come,  come  quickly  !"  she  cried  to  the  others, 
and  not  stopping  or  caring  to  tell  them  for  what 
purpose,  she  drew  them  with  her  and  plunged  with 
light,  sure  feet  down  the  gravelly  bank. 

Jeannette  followed  timorously,  but  Charlotte's 


20 

blood  was  up  and  she  was  ready  now  for  any 
thing. 

Springing  into  the  boat,  Jeanne  looked  at  the 
other  two,  who  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  little  river, 
which  was  high  between  its  banks,  swollen  by  the 
September  rains.  The  oars  had  been  removed, 
the  boat  was  tied.  It  looked  a  harmless  bit  of 
play. 

"  Come,  step  in,  Jeannette,  and  give  Mademoiselle 
the  seat  in  the  stern,"  cried  Jeanne.  "  It  shall  be 
the  royal  seat,  cushioned,  you  see,  in  crimson  vel 
vet,  with  a  silken  canopy  above  her  head,  and  a 
banner  flying  the  Bourbon  lilies  on  a  field  azure. 
Hasten,  before  we  hear  Sister  Radegonde  calling  ! 
Why  do  you  wait  ?  The  boat  is  tied,  surely  no 
harm  can  follow." 

As  Jeanne  thus  challenged  them,  standing  grace 
fully  poised  on  the  rocking  edge  of  the  old  boat, 
her  hair  flying,  her  dark  eyes  shining,  her  face  bril 
liant  with  daring,  the  two  to  whom  she  was  no  less 
wonderful  than  the  freedom  of  the  fields  and  forest, 
found  in  her  voice  the  voice  of  the  wild  life  of 
nature  calling  to  them  irresistibly. 

In  another  instant  Charlotte  was  reclining  in  the 
invisible  grandeur  of  the  stern,  while  Jeannette 
took  the  bow  and  Jeanne  de  Mousson,  in  the  mid 
dle,  with  her  brown  hands  on  the  sides  of  the  rick 
ety  craft,  rocked  it  gently  up  and  down,  the  rope's 
length  only  out  in  the  current  of  the  Petit-Morin. 

All  this  was  safe  and  sensible,  and  even  the  pru 
dent  Jeannette  forgot  her  scruples.  But  full  soon 
the  effervescing  Gascon  spirit  of  the  young  de 
Mousson,  impetuous  and  audacious,  broke  out  in 
strength  and  a  storm  arose.  From  a  gentle  motion 
she  changed  to  one  of  violence,  and  the  more 
madly  she  rocked  the  boat  the  brighter  shone  her 
eyes,  the  more  brilliant  became  her  smile,  for  she 
watched  the  face  of  her  little  princess  and  caught 
the  inspiration  of  her  kindling  joy.  In  a  moment 


21 

the  inevitable  had  happened.  The  rope  by  which 
the  boat  was  loosely  moored  became  untied  by  the 
persistent  motion,  all  unseen  by  the  children,  and 
before  they  dreamed  of  it  they  were  slipping  qui 
etly  down  the  river.  Jeanne  de  Mousson  was  the 
first  to  perceive  it.  The  storm  abated  then  with 
startling  suddenness  and  the  boat  glided  smoothly 
onward. 

"We  are  adrift,"  she  said  quietly,  her  eyes  on 
Charlotte's  face. 

A  glance  at  the  trailing  rope  and  the  receding 
bank  showed  the  statement  to  be  true. 

"Very  well,"  said  Charlotte  de  Bourbon,  not 
moving  save  to  fold  her  hands  with  a  strange  ges 
ture  of  content.  "  Since  we  cannot  help  ourselves 
let  us  go  on." 

Jeannette  began  to  cry  a  little. 

"What  are  you  afraid  of  ?  "  asked  Jeanne  with 
curling  lip. 

Jeannette  was  thinking  of  madame  and  Sister 
Cecile  Crue  ;  also  of  Pere  Ruze  and  penance.  Be 
sides,  there  was  the  chance  of  shipwreck,  of  which 
she  had  heard  terrible  things,  and  a  cold  grave 
among  the  reeds  in  the  bottom  of  the  Petit-Morin. 
As  the  current  grew  stronger  and  the  boat  increased 
its  motion  these  fears  intensified  and  Jeannette 
sobbed  under  her  breath. 

"Do  not  cry,  Jeannette,"  said  Charlotte  with 
gentle,  unconscious  authority,  "I  like  it." 

Jeannette  looked  at  her  face  then  and  her  sobs 
ceased.  Jeanne  too  looked  and  the  scorn  left  her 
lips  and  the  bold  daring  in  her  eyes  grew  softer. 
The  child  in  the  stern  was  carried  quite  beyond 
their  thoughts  of  doubt  and  danger,  and  they  per 
ceived  it.  Her  lovely  face  was  lifted,  the  white 
coif  had  slipped  from  her  head  and  her  golden  hair, 
thus  set  free,  was  blown  back  from  her  forehead, 
which  was  calm  and  pure  and  royally  molded. 
The  blue  eyes  were  full  of  a  new  light,  and  some 


22 

strange  inspiration  gave  a  lustre  to   all   her   look 
such  as  they  had  never  seen. 

She  stood  then  in  the  stern  and  looked  up  into  the 
blue  dome  of  the  sky  above  their  heads  ;  she  felt 
the  rapid  current  beneath  their  frail  shell,  the  swift 
breath  of  the  wind  upon  her  cheeks  ;  she  saw  the 
green  meadows  of  La  Brie  stretch  broad  and  sunny 
on  either  side.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  with 
a  wild,  breathless  thrill,  she  felt  herself  free. 


IV 

THRUST  AND  PARRY 

MADAME  LOUISE  DE  LONG-VIC  sat  in  the 
hall  of  the  abbess'  house  awaiting  the  visit 
of  Pere  Ruze. 

This  hall,  which  was  the  private  audience  room 
of  the  superieure,  was  of  ample  size  and  agreeable 
proportions.  The  floor,  on  which  leopard  skins  and 
rich  carpets  were  laid,  was  of  dark  wood,  highly  pol 
ished  ;  the  walls  were  hung  with  Cordova  leather ; 
the  ceiling,  rather  low  than  otherwise,  was  crossed 
by  heavy  oak  rafters,  curiously  carved  with  her 
aldic  and  ecclesiastic  symbols,  among  which  the 
monogram  of  Saint  Columban  and  the  date  634  re 
curred  frequently.  At  the  end  of  the  hall  opposite 
the  entrance  was  an  enormous  projecting  chimney- 
piece,  carved  in  massive  oak,  in  which  was  set  a 
dim,  archaic  painting  of  Sainte  Theodehilde,  first 
Abbess  of  Jouarre,  who  died  in  the  odor  of  sanctity 
in  the  seventh  century  A.  D. 

Before  the  chimney,  in  which  a  fire  of  beech  logs 
was  burning,  filling  the  room  with  ruddy  light,  stood 
two  chairs  with  ecclesiastical  canopies  of  elaborately 
carven  wood,  and  a  table  at  a  slight  distance  was 
set  forth  with  a  dainty  and  sumptuous  evening 
meal.  Madame  partook  of  all  other  meals  in  the 
common  refectory.  The  third  meal  of  the  day, 
served  in  her  own  hall,  was  frequently  shared  by 
guests  of  the  abbey,  and  was  of  a  ceremonious  and 
stately  character. 

From  the  carved  ceiling  hung  silver  chandeliers, 
exquisite  productions  of  Venetian  goldsmiths,  filled 
with  wax  lights,  which  were  reflected  from  wall 

23 


24 

mirrors  fitted  in  between  the  panels  of  darkly 
gleaming  embossed  leather.  On  a  massive  buffet, 
filling  the  end  of  the  room  opposite  the  chimney, 
were  ranged  flagons,  cups,  and  "  marvelous  fair  ba 
sons  "  of  gold  and  silver  plate  of  rich  workman 
ship  and  design.  In  fine,  the  hall  of  the  abbess  at 
Jouarre,  in  startling  contrast  to  the  ascetic  bareness 
of  the  other  portions  of  the  establishment,  expressed 
in  itself  not  a  little  of  the  peculiarly  sumptuous  but 
subtle  and  refined  luxury  of  that  Renaissance  which 
Francis  I.  had  introduced  into  France  from  Italy. 

Madame  de  Long-Vic,  who  had  sat  watching  the 
fire  dreamily,  rose  from  her  seat  and  began  to  pace 
the  hall  with  slow,  noiseless  tread. 

Her  appearance  at  this  hour  contrasted  even  more 
strangely  with  her  ordinary  aspect  than  did  the 
richness  of  her  private  apartment  with  that  of  the 
convent  in  general.  Her  conventual  habit  laid 
aside,  according  to  the  relaxed  custom  of  the  Bene 
dictines  of  her  day,  much  of  the  austerity  of  her 
aspect  vanished,  while  its  authority  and  distinction 
remained,  and  the  Abbess  of  Jouarre  appeared  rather 
the  stately  chatelaine  than  the  watchful-eyed  sup'e- 
rieure.  In  fact,  Louise  de  Long-Vic,  having  enjoyed 
for  many  years  the  honors  and  revenues  of  this 
opulent  abbey,  had  found  in  it  a  position  of  worldly 
advantage  well  suited  to  her  mind.  Advanced  in 
mid-life  she  still  retained  the  delicate  grace  of  face 
and  figure  characteristic  of  her  family,  and  as  she 
moved  to  and  fro  in  the  firelight  in  her  flowing  dress 
of  gray  satin  she  bore  the  unmistakable  air  of  the 
grande  dame. 

A  lay  sister  in  attendance  interrupted  her  medi 
tation  by  the  announcement  that  Pere  Ruze  was 
at  the  door,  and  at  the  word  of  the  superieure,  the 
priest  with  an  obeisance  expressive  of  admiring  de 
votion  entered  the  hall  and  presently  seated  himself 
in  his  accustomed  hooded  chair,  to  which  a  gracious 
gesture  of  madame's  hand  invited  him. 


25 

Jean  Ruze,  doctor  of  the  Sorbonne  and  confessor 
to  Henri  II.,  was  a  man  of  fine  physique  and  im 
pressive  presence,  predestined  it  would  seem  to  a 
bishopric.  He  had  the  imperturbable  repose  of 
countenance,  the  benevolent  smile,  the  slow,  im 
passive  manner  and  speech,  and  the  delicate,  chas 
tened  gallantry  in  his  bearing  toward  women  which 
mark  the  successful  ecclesiastic.  However,  while 
all  these  impressive  characteristics  had  been  dis 
played  in  madame's  presence  daily  for  nearly  three 
months,  she  had  confessed  to  herself  definitely 
within  the  last  half-hour  that  she  did  not  like  Pere 
Ruze  and  that  she  distinctly  preferred  that  he 
should  leave  Jouarre.  Accordingly,  being  an  adroit 
woman  and  accustomed  to  managing  men  shrewdly, 
she  received  Pere  Ruze  to-night  with  a  cordiality 
approaching  warmth. 

As  they  sat  facing  each  other  over  the  well- 
seasoned  viands  noiselessly  served  to  them  by  the 
black-robed  sister,  and  of  which  Ruze  partook 
heartily  and  madame  not  at  all,  she  remarked  in  a 
casual,  careless  tone  : 

"  Is  it  two  months  or  three,  monsieur,  since  you 
came  to  us  at  Jouarre  ?  " 

"  It  is  rather  more  than  three,  madame,"  was  the 
reply,  spoken  in  a  rich,  well-modulated  voice.  "  If 
you  remember  it  was  in  the  week  following  the 
ill-fated  battle  of  Gravelines  that  I  came,  directly 
after  the  death  of  Pere  Boquin  left  you  without  a 
confessor." 

"  And  Gravelines  was  on  July  the  twelfth." 

The  priest  bowed  assent. 

"You  have  been  long  away  from  court." 

"  Yes,  madame,"  returned  Ruze,  sighing  gently  ; 
"longer  than  the  three  months,  which  I  have  spent 
with  such  unmarred  enjoyment  in  the  repose  of 
your  charming  convent.  For  nearly  a  month  be 
fore  I  came  hither  I  was  almost  constantly  at 
Meaux  or  at  Melun." 


26 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure,  in  the  affair  of  the  Sieur  d'An- 
delot.  And  are  you  now  quite  satisfied  with  the 
results  of  your  mission  ?  "  Madame  asked  the 
question  with  the  politeness  which  betokens  indif 
ference  to  the  answer. 

Ruze  shook  his  head  with  an  expression  of  serious 
concern. 

"  It  is  too  soon,  madame,  to  be  confident.  The 
Sieur  d'Andelot  most  certainly  consented  to  be 
present  at  a  celebration  of  the  mass.  1  myself  ad 
ministered  in  person  and  know  whereof  I  affirm. 
But  since  by  the  grace  of  his  most  puissant  majesty 
freedom  has  been  restored  to  him,  I  hear  strange, 
disturbing  rumors.  I  like  it  not  that  he  has  made 
such  haste  to  join  Coligny.  Madame,"  and  the 
priest  straightened  himself  in  his  chair  and  struck 
his  hand  with  emphasis  upon  the  table  before  him, 
"madame,  when  once  these  insidious  and  corrupt 
ing  doctrines  enter  into  the  heart  of  a  man  or  woman, 
or  even  of  a  child,  there  is  no  faith  nor  truth  to  be 
found  in  that  heart!"  and  crossing  himself  de 
voutly  Pere  Ruze  murmured  a  brief  prayer  for  the 
deliverance  of  the  church  from  these  evil  snares 
and  schisms. 

Louise  de  Long-Vic  watched  him  narrowly,  as  if 
to  satisfy  herself  of  his  sincerity.  The  attendant 
now  brought  wine  and  fruit,  trimmed  the  candles, 
arranged  the  fire,  and  withdrew.  When  they  were 
alone  madame  asked  with  a  shade  of  coldness  : 

"  Did  you  tell  me  that  it  was  at  his  majesty's  re 
quest  that  you  came  to  Jouarre,  monsieur  ?  " 

Ruze  looked  at  her  with  a  shrewd,  swift  glance  : 

"His  majesty  was  pleased  to  appoint  me  to  this 
pleasing  and  most  welcome  service,  until  such  time 
as  the  return  of  my  young  pupil,  the  prince- 
dauphin,  madame  your  sister's  son,  shall  make 
my  presence  demanded  at  Paris.  Or,  let  me  add, 
until  his  grace,  the  Bishop  of  Meaux,  shall  appoint 
a  successor  to  Pere  Boquin,  whom  may  God  ab- 


27 

solve,"  added  the  priest  with  a  devout  inclination 
of  his  head. 

Madame  drew  her  chair  slightly  away  from  the 
table  and  played  with  the  long  stem  of  her  wine 
glass. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  said  presently,  fixing  her  eyes 
upon  the  face  of  Pere  Ruze  with  her  quiet,  cynical 
smile,  "  what  are  you  really  here  for  ?  Why  not 
tell  me  ?  " 

Instead  of  showing  surprise,  the  face  of  the 
priest  only  became  a  shade  more  impassive  than 
before.  He  took  a  pear  from  its  silver  dish  and 
turned  it  about  in  his  fine,  well-kept  hand,  regard 
ing  its  blushing  and  waxen  surface  with  musing  con 
sideration  for  a  moment  before  he  spoke.  Perhaps, 
on  the  whole,  it  was  time  to  be  frank.  The  orchards 
of  Jouarre  were  famed  for  their  exquisite  fruit ;  ma- 
dame  was  undeniably  both  a  clever  and  a  charming 
woman.  And  yet  he  was  getting  a  little  weary  of 
this  quiet  life  in  La  Brie  ;  court  life  would  not  come 
amiss  after  three  months  of  hearing  these  simple 
nuns  patter  their  petty  confessions  and  their  end 
less  prayers. 

"  Madame,"  he  said,  looking  up  with  the  winning 
smile  of  the  courtier  in  place  of  the  benevolence  of 
the  priest,  "you  asked  me  a  question  awhile  ago. 
Will  you  give  me  the  liberty  of  asking  you  the 
same  ?  How  long  haveyou  been  at  Jouarre  ?  " 

Plainly  this  was  an  unexpected  shaft,  and  one 
which  found  a  weak  point  in  madame's  defensive 
armor.  A  slight  tremor  of  her  eyelids,  however, 
only  indicated  the  fact. 

"  Does  monsieur  mean  as  supZrieure?  "  she  asked 
quietly. 

"Precisely." 

"  It  is  nearly  fifteen  years." 

Pere  Ruze  appeared  to  reflect  with  the  serious 
ness  of  one  approaching  an  interesting  subject  for 
the  first  time. 


28 

"In  time  madame  could  even  afford  to  retire," 
he  said  musingly.  The  revenues  of  the  rich  abbey 
of  Jouarre  were  a  matter  of  conjecture  rather  than 
of  knowledge  to  outsiders. 

A  slight  flush  tinged  madame's  cheeks. 

"Madame  is  still  young,  charming,  born  to  com 
mand  in  some  larger  field  of  influence.  Madame  is 
not,  we  will  hope,  without  resources " 

Louise  de  Long-Vic  tapped  her  slender  foot  impa 
tiently  on  the  floor. 

"  Why  not  say  plainly,  monsieur,  the  Due  de 
Montpensier  has  sent  you  here  to  arrange  for  my 
withdrawal  in  favor  of  his  daughter  ?  I  have  sus 
pected  this  before,  but  have  put  the  thought  forci 
bly  from  me  as  monstrous.  The  child  is  not  yet 

twelve  years  old,  a  frail,  innocent  little  creature 
>  > 

"  There  was,  I  believe,  an  unwritten  promise  at 
the  birth  of  Mademoiselle  ?  "  the  question  was 
asked  with  insinuating  gentleness. 

"  But  the  promise  supposed  that  the  canonical 
age  should  have  been  reached." 

"  Marie  de  Bourbon  became  Prioress  of  Poissy 
at  the  age  of  four,"  said  Ruze  reflectively. 

"Doubtless  outrages  have  been  committed," 
said  madame  slowly;  "but  I  can  assure  you  that 
my  sister  will  never  give  her  consent  to  have  these 
measures  forced  upon  her  little  daughter." 

Pere  Ruze  shook  his  head  regretfully. 

"It  is  much  to  be  deplored  that  her  grace,  the 
Duchesse  de  Montpensier,  should  have  no  voice  in 
a  matter  of  so  much  moment." 

"  What  mean  you,  monsieur  ?  "  asked  madame 
sternly. 

"  Alas,  madame,  it  is  known  only  to  a  few,  but 
your  sister  is  at  heart  a  heretic.  You  cannot  fail 
to  realize  the  necessity  of  withdrawing  these 
princely  children  absolutely  from  an  influence  so 
baneful.  It  is  sad,  indeed,  for  monseigneur." 


Madame  de  Long-Vic's  color  changed  swiftly. 
She  was  about  io  speak  when  a  loud  knock  at 
the  door  was  followed  by  Sister  Radegonde,  who 
burst  rather  than  walked  into  the  room,  wringing 
her  hands  and  exclaiming  : 

"Mademoiselle  is  lost,  and  the  little  Vassetz  and 
the  de  Mousson  with  her  !  Ah,  madame,  do  with 
me  what  you  will  !  It  is  I  alone  who  am  to 
blame!  " 

Closely  following  Radegonde  came  Sister  Cecile 
Crue,  newly  returned  from  Meaux. 

"To  think,"  she  cried  softly,  with  a  curious 
mingling  of  consternation  and  triumph  on  her  face, 
"  only  twelve  hours  have  I  been  absent  from 
Jouarre,  and  yet  this  has  happened !  I  shall  not 
leave  my  post  again,  madame,  while  I  have  my 
reason." 

Madame  de  Long-Vic  looked  at  the  mistress  of 
the  novices  with  a  glance  of  cold  dislike,  but 
turned  swiftly  to  Radegonde  and  demanded  an  ex 
plicit  account  of  what  had  happened.  The  room 
was  quickly  filling  with  curious  and  breathless 
nuns.  Pere  Ruze  listened  keenly  for  a  moment. 
When  he  heard  mention  made  of  a  vanished  boat 
on  the  river  he  left  the  women  to  themselves, 
hastened  swiftly  from  the  hall,  and  by  its  private 
gate  made  haste  to  leave  the  abbey  precincts. 

Within  five  minutes  he  was  galloping  down  the 
hard,  white  road  toward  La  Ferte-sous-Jouarre, 
where  the  Petit-Morin  flows  into  the  Marne.  A 
half-mile  short  of  the  hamlet  he  met  what  he  hoped 
to  meet,  namely,  a  peasant's  wagon.  It  was  an 
open  wagon,  lumbering  heavily,  driven  by  a 
countryman  in  a  gray  blouse  and  long-peaked  cap, 
who  carried  a  lantern.  In  the  wagon,  on  a  little 
scattered  straw,  sat  three  young  girls.  Pere  Ruze 
reined  in  his  horse  and  stood  within  the  shadow  of 
a  high  bank  to  let  them  pass,  then  turned,  himself 
unnoticed,  and  followed  them  at  a  distance.  What 


30 

he  saw  did  not  surprise  the  priest.  What  he  heard 
surprised  him  much. 

In  their  clear,  childish  voices,  nothing  daunted 
nor  dismayed  by  what  might  await  them,  the  three 
little  maids,  one  of  whom  he  recognized,  even  in 
the  dim  light,  as  Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon,  were 
singing  the  psalms  after  Clement  Marot. 

"Plainly,"  said  Pere  Ruze,  riding  quietly  on  be 
tween  the  fragrant  and  dewy  fields,  "the  time  for 
action  has  come." 


THE  DUG  DE  MONTPENSIER  VISITS  HIS  SISTER- 
IN-LAW 

THE  bleak  gray  days  of  the  November  of  1558 
passed  painfully  to  the  little  maids  of  Jouarre. 
Pere  Ruze  having  with  bland  benevolence  in 
flicted  the  bitterest  penance  for  their  involuntary 
escapade  and  the  most  useful  which  he  could  de 
vise,  namely,  the  complete  separation  of  the  three 
from  each  other's  company,  and  having  entrusted 
the  accomplishment  of  this  penance  to  the  care  of 
the  faithful  Sister  Cecile  Crue,  rode  off  one  day  in 
the  direction  of  Paris.  In  time  he  would  return. 
As  to  that,  Madame  de  Long-Vic  did  not  deceive 
herself.  However,  a  month  passed  and  more. 

Then,  when  Christmas  snows  whitened  glebe 
and  garden  and  the  red  roofs  of  Jouarre,  and  cold 
winds  whistled  through  the  cloisters  and  chilled  the 
unwarmed  cells  of  the  nuns  and  novices  and  made 
life  itself  a  perpetual  penance,  then,  on  such  a  day, 
the  gates  of  the  abbey  swung  wide  and  over  the 
bridge  and  into  the  abbey  court  rode  his  grace,  the 
Due  de  Montpensier,  and  in  his  train  rode  Jean 
Ruze. 

Now  Sister  Radegonde  was  as  watchful  in  her 
way  as  Sister  Cecile  Crue,  and,  with  the  instinct 
with  which  the  hen  hastens  to  gather  her  chickens 
under  her  wings  when  the  hawk  is  swooping  near, 
she  betook  herself  to  Charlotte  on  the  instant, 
while  the  porter,  on  his  knees  before  the  great 
lord,  was  still  murmuring  his  benedicite. 

She  found  the  child  in  the  infirmary,  where  a 
trifling  illness  had  kept  her  for  a  few  days.  She 

31 


32 

was  lonely  and  listless,  with  over-bright  eyes  and 
flushed  cheeks. 

"  Ah,  my  precious  one,"  said  Radegonde,  "  mon- 
seigneur  the  Due  is  here  and  you  will  soon  be  sent 
for.  Shall  1  say  that  you  are  ill  ;  that  you  cannot 

go  ?  " 

"  How  mean  you,  Radegonde  ?  "  asked  the  child 
proudly,  while  her  breath  came  quicker  and  the 
color  went  and  came  in  her  cheeks.  "Do  you 
think  I  would  not  see  my  father  when  he  has  come 
so  far  to  see  me  ?  " 

It  was  bravely  done,  for  never  yet  had  the  visit 
of  Louis  de  Montpensier  brought  aught  but  added 
rigor  and  sadness  to  the  martyred  life  of  his  child ; 
but  Radegonde  knew  what  she  knew,  and  as  she 
prepared  the  toilet  of  her  little  princess  tears  ran 
unchecked  down  her  face,  which  was  cold  and  red 
with  the  raw  December  morning. 

This  did  not  escape  the  eyes  of  Sister  Cecile, 
who  was  presently  upon  them,  with  a  mighty  air  of 
importance,  to  make  Mademoiselle  ready  and  con 
duct  her  to  the  presence  of  her  august  sire. 

"  Voilh,  Radegonde,"  she  said  coldly,  "Made 
moiselle  will  do  very  well  now.  His  grace  cannot 
be  kept  waiting  for  you  to  weep  over  his  kindness 
in  riding  twenty  miles  out  of  his  way  on  such  a 
morning  simply  to  show  his  affection  for  his  child. 
Come,  Mademoiselle." 

"  Thanks,  Sister  Cecile,"  said  Charlotte,  leading 
the  way,  holding  Radegonde's  hard  old  hand. 
"  Will  you  too  go  with  us  ?  " 

Cecile  followed,  slightly  set  back.  It  was  after 
this  fashion  that  the  little  Bourbon  now  and  again, 
but  rarely,  made  the  women  about  her  feel  that  she 
knew  herself  after  all  to  be  of  the  blood  royal. 

In  the  hall  of  the  abbess,  before  the  great  buffet, 
at  which  he  stood  to  drink  a  glass  of  wine,  Char 
lotte  met  her  father  and  swept  him  a  courtesy  to 
the  very  ground  with  the  grace  of  one  to  the  man- 


33 

ner  born,  then  lifted  a  shy,  sweet  smile  of  wistful- 
ness  which,  seeing,  the  Due  responded  to  with  a 
kiss,  cold  rather  than  fatherly. 

A  tall,  soldierly  man  was  Louis  de  Montpensier, 
head  of  the  younger  branch  of  the  house  of  Bour 
bon,  peer  and  prince  of  France.  In  his  splendid 
costume  of  velvet  and  miniver,  with  his  proud  and 
handsome  Bourbon  features  animated  by  the  instinct 
and  habit  of  command,  he  stood  the  imposing  per 
sonification  of  authority,  confronting  the  small, 
white-robed  novice  in  her  cloistral  shyness.  Mad 
ame  de  Long-Vic,  appearing  to-day  in  her  black 
conventual  robes  and  with  her  abbess  face  of  wan 
austerity,  watched  them  from  her  place  apart,  and 
her  heart  sank  to  see  the  two,  so  unequally  matched, 
pitted  against  one  another. 

And  yet,  had  Louise  de  Long-Vic  been  less  a 
woman  and  more  a  seer,  she  might  have  discerned 
that  in  the  end,  in  the  long  duel  of  which  one  bout 
was  now  passing  before  her  eyes,  it  would  be  the 
weak,  defenseless  child  who  would  win.  For  Louis 
de  Bourbon  was  by  instinct,  by  habit,  by  life,  a 
petty  tyrant,  and  petty  tyranny  in  the  end  must 
always  surrender.  His  fatal  fault,  as  it  is  the  fault 
of  all  tyrants,  was  his  fanatical  stupidity,  which 
could  see  in  human  souls  no  forces  greater  than  he 
could  mold  to  his  will.  Pledged  by  birthright  and 
inheritance,  by  habit  and  training  to  the  ancient 
religion,  he  had  no  hold  upon  the  noble  and  perma 
nent  elements  of  that  Catholic  faith  of  which  he 
was  so  fiery  a  champion.  It  was  to  the  powerful 
political  and  social  organization,  to  the  concentrated 
authority,  to  the  perfected  discipline  of  the  system 
that  he  so  hotly  adhered,  while  the  vital  and  spir 
itual  essence  informing  these  mighty  energies  es 
caped  him.  As  an  engine  for  the  use  of  despotic 
power  he  found  the  church  supreme  and  in  accord 
with  his  own  instinctive  bent.  Upon  those  who 
swerved  from  the  right  line  punishment  must  be 


34 

swift  and  summary.  Extermination  he  regarded  as 
the  only  and  sufficient  specific.  Had  he  been 
Protestant  he  would  have  made  Catholic  martyrs. 
To  differ  with  him  in  opinion  was  to  be  guilty  of 
crime.  Like  the  man  whom  he  adored  and  upon 
whom  he  ardently  modeled  himself,  Philip  II.  of 
Spain,  the  Due  dreaded  in  the  Protestant  cult  those 
notes  of  doom  to  tyranny,  freedom,  inquiry,  repub 
licanism,  and  with  the  instinct  of  his  class  he 
availed  himself  of  every  means  of  suppression  to  a 
reform  whose  success  meant  the  fall  of  monarchy. 

But,  like  Philip  in  his  implacable  hatred  of  inde 
pendent  thought  and  in  his  fervent  devotion  to  the 
notions  of  monarchy  and  papacy,  Montpensier  was 
unlike  Philip  in  the  field  in  which  he  exercised  his 
tyranny.  Where  Philip  ruled  over  a  kingdom  the 
Due  ruled  over  a  family  of  women  and  children, 
and  even  here  he  was  destined  to  be  outwitted  in 
the  end.  His  wife,  Jacqueline  de  Long-Vic,  first 
lady  of  honor  to  Catharine  de  Medici,  was  a  woman 
of  noted  personal  charm  and  intellectual  ability. 
Her  husband,  her  inferior  in  every  noble  faculty, 
depended  upon  her  influence  at  court  and  her  in 
tuitive  leadership  in  matters  of  State  policy.  Thus 
the  fact  that  she  was  known  to  be,  although  not 
avowedly,  Protestant,  produced  no  public  scandal 
or  separation  between  husband  and  wife.  On  the 
other  hand,  in  relation  to  their  children  the  Due, 
with  the  vengeful  bitterness  of  his  baffled  will  and 
pride,  took  the  power  into  his  own  hands  and  de 
clared  their  mother  disqualified  to  have  any  voice 
in  determining  their  future  careers.  One  thing 
was  fixed  :  he  would  far  rather  see  his  children 
dead  than  see  them  Protestant. 

Such  was  the  prince,  such  the  father,  who  look 
ing  down  upon  Charlotte  de  Bourbon  now  re 
marked,  with  grim  gallantry  : 

"  By  our  Lady,  Mademoiselle,  you  grow  pretty. 
Whence  won  you  such  bright  eyes,  and  so  bright  a 


35 

bloom  in  your  cheeks  ?  I  have  seen  them  pale  and 
lifeless  hitherto.  Had  you  but  a  dowry  we  might 
marry  you  yet  to  some  cavalier  of  good  degree." 

"Is  madame,  my  mother,  well?"  Charlotte 
asked  simply,  wisely  ignoring  this  line  of  conversa 
tion. 

"Madame  is  very  well.  She  can  think  of  noth 
ing  latterly,  however,  save  the  marriage  of  your 
sister  Franchise  to  the  Due  de  Bouillon,  with  which 
she  is  highly  pleased." 

Charlotte  choked  back  a  sob.  No  word  of  love 
or  remembrance  from  her  dear  mother !  Was  she 
then  quite  forgotten  ?  So  it  seemed.  Her  dearest 
sister  married  and  she  unable  to  see  her  as  a  bride 
or  give  her  one  kiss  of  farewell  !  But  with  the  self- 
control  of  long  discipline  she  uttered  no  complaint, 
rather  asked  : 

"  And  my  brother,  Francois  ?  " 

"He  is  still  with  the  Due  de  Guise.  We  shall 
make  a  soldier  of  him."  Then  abruptly,  with  a 
gathering  frown,  the  Due  said  : 

"Mademoiselle,  my  time  is  short  for  these  mat 
ters.  Let  me  ask  you,  then,  what  is  this  that  I  hear 
of  an  attempt,  awhile  since,  at  running  away  from 
your  home  here  at  Jouarre  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  has  been  misled.  There  was  not 
such  an  attempt.  There  was  an  accident.  No  run 
away  was  intended." 

"  I  hear  of  a  little  vagabond  sent  here  by  Jeanne 
d'Albret,  for  the  very  purpose,  no  doubt,  of  corrupt 
ing  you  from  the  true  religion  and  leading  you  into 
all  kinds  of  wild  adventures.  De  Mousson — is 
that  her  name  ?  It  was  her  work,  I  understand." 

"  Monsieur  has  been  misled."  Again  the  childish 
courage  ;  there  was  trembling  lip,  quickened  breath, 
but  the  heart  of  her  still  dauntless.  "Jeanne  de 
Mousson  did  not  lead  me  into  this  accident.  I  went, 
monsieur,  of  my  own  good  will,  and  when  she  and 
the  Vassetz  would  have  stopped  the  boat  sooner, 


36 

for  we  had  the  chance,  I  would  not  let  them,  be 
cause  I  chose  to  go  farther.  It  was  my  own  doing 
and  my  own  fault." 

"  You  are  bold,  Mademoiselle,"  and  the  soldier 
looked  with  an  odd  twitch  of  his  lips  at  the  gallant 
child. 

"  I  am  your  daughter,  monsieur,"  Charlotte 
made  answer  cannily,  with  another  courtesy.  Mont- 
pensier  laughed  shortly. 

"  Is  it  perhaps  within  your  plans  to  make  further 
essays  in  this  direction  ?  You  seem  well  satisfied 
with  your  success  in  this." 

"  No,  monsieur,  such  is  not  my  thought." 

"  Have  you  been  punished  properly  for  this  wild 
caper  ? " 

"Sufficiently,  monsieur." 

"  What  has  Pere  Ruze  given  you  for  penance  ?  " 

"Paternosters  and  aves  without  end,"  sighed 
Charlotte  pensively. 

"  And  is  that  all  ?  "  and  the  Due's  brows  knit 
stormily. 

"No,  monsieur;  I  cannot  speak  to  my  dear 
friends,  my  two  Jeannes.  I  have  now  no  joy  in 
life,"  and  Charlotte's  lips  trembled. 

"When  Mademoiselle  is  naughty  she  can  expect 
no  joys.  It  is  only  the  good  and  the  obedient  who 
are  happy,"  and  the  Due  glanced  at  madame  as  if 
expecting  confirmation  of  this  impressive  platitude, 
but  madame's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  floor. 

"Have  you,  then,  thus  far  duly  discharged  the 
penance  assigned  you  by  Pere  Ruze  ?  "  he  added 
more  sharply. 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"  Very  well.  I  will  not  keep  you  longer.  I  have 
much  to  confer  upon  with  your  aunt  ;  but  before 
you  go,  let  me  say  this,"  and  Montpensier  laid  a 
heavy  hand  upon  each  slender  arm  of  his  daugh 
ter  and  looked  with  stern,  hard  eyes  into  her  face  : 
"Pere  Ruze  is  to  you  in  the  place  of  God.  You 


37 

have  no  knowledge  of  right  or  wrong  apart  from  his 
teaching.  If  he  punishes  you,  submit.  If  he 
praises  you,  be  glad.  He  is  not  only  in  the  place  of 
God  to  you,  but  also  in  my  place.  He  is  here  to 
represent  me,  your  father.  Whatever  he  bids  you, 
you  are  to  obey  him  positively,  without  question  or 
opposition.  You  have  known,  hitherto,  the  lightest, 
most  childish  of  penances.  For  those  who  disobey 
there  are  penances  which  crush  out  the  very  heart's 
blood." 

As  he  spoke  those  last  words  slowly  and  with  pe 
culiar  distinctness  the  face  of  Montpensier  became 
sinister  in  its  ominous  harshness,  while  the  sugges 
tion  of  a  fanatical  cruelty,  with  which  the  sixteenth 
century  was  but  too  familiar,  gave  to  what  he  said 
the  effect  of  physical  violence. 

Trembling  through  all  her  slight  frame,  Charlotte 
looked  up  for  a  gentler  word  of  parting,  but  it  was 
not  vouchsafed  her.  With  a  gesture  of  dismis 
sal  and  a  cold  salutation  the  Due  turned  to  Madame 
de  Long-Vic,  and  the  child  slowly,  and  as  if  half- 
paralyzed,  made  her  way  out  of  the  hall.  In  the 
ante-room  she  found  old  Radegonde  waiting  to  take 
her  in  her  arms  and  soothe  her  like  a  baby  upon  her 
breast,  and  so  carry  her  through  the  dark  labyrinth 
ine  corridors  back  to  the  narrow  bed  in  the  cheer 
less  room  she  had  left. 

"I  am  hurt,  Radegonde,"  moaned  the  child, 
"something  aches  so  here,"  and  she  clasped  her 
small  hands  over  her  heart.  "  Something  dreadful 
is  coming  to  me.  I  feel  it  and  know  it,  but  what  it 
is  I  cannot  understand.  Oh,  how  can  I  bear  any 
more  ?  " 

And  Radegonde  with  her  own  heart  bursting  with 
rage  and  pain  was  powerless  to  gainsay  her. 

Meanwhile  Louis  de  Montpensier,  well  pleased 
with  the  palpable  success  of  his  policy  of  intimida 
tion,  turned  to  his  sister-in-law,  and  remarked  : 

"  Madame,  the  times  are  waxing  evil.     It  be- 


38 

hooves  us  to  act  circumspectly,  with  promptness 
and  prudence." 

Madame  de  Long-Vic  lifted  her  downcast  eyes 
slowly,  allowed  them  to  rest,  cold  and  unresponsive, 
upon  the  face  of  the  Due  for  a  moment,  and  then 
withdrew  her  glance.  She  was  neither  a  tender 
nor  an  impulsive  woman,  but  at  that  moment  all 
her  heart  was  crying  out  its  pity  for  the  bruised  and 
bleeding  spirit  of  her  little  niece,  and  she  burned  to 
pour  her  scorn  upon  the  fanatical  martinet  who 
stood  before  her  now  as  self-satisfied  as  if  he  had 
wrought  a  high  deed  of  valor  and  chivalry. 

Receiving  no  response  to  his  sagacious  generali 
zation,  the  Due  now  added  : 

"  You  have  heard,  I  daresay,  of  the  death  of  the 
consort  of  Philip  of  Spain,  Mary  Tudor,  on  the 
seventeenth  of  last  month  ?  " 

Madame  had  heard  of  the  event. 

"  The  consequences  to  Christendom  are  likely  to 
be  exceeding  serious,"  continued  the  Due.  "The 
base-born  daughter  of  Henry  by  one  of  his  court 
ladies,  Mistress  Anne  Boleyn,  succeeds." 

"  So  I  have  heard,"  said  madame. 

"  The  Lady  Elizabeth.  She  is  said  to  be  Protes 
tant.  All  that  has  been  built  up  in  the  brief  but  il 
lustrious  reign  of  Mary  and  his  Spanish  majesty  is 
like  to  be  now  undone,  and  we  may  see  all  England 
lost  to  the  true  faith.  Surely  this  contagion  spreads 
like  the  plague  itself.  Flanders  is  full  of  it,  I  bear, 
and  insolence  and  presumption  go  from  bad  to 
worse.  But  the  king  of  Spain  is  preparing  to  make 
short  work  there,  and  his  majesty  of  France  will 
not  be  far  behind  in  stamping  out  this  canaille  with 
an  iron  heel." 

"  Canaille  you  can  scarce  call  them  of  the  new 
religion,  monsieur,  since  among  them  can  be  num 
bered  already  princes  of  the  blood  and  such  men 
as  the  Admiral  of  France."  Madame  spoke  in  her 
quiet,  measured  tones,  her  face  calmer  even  than 


39 

its  wont.  Her  words  and  no  less  the  chill  of  her 
manner  stirred  Montpensier  to  an  outburst  of  the 
passion  which  had  been  gathering  beneath  the  sur 
face  throughout  the  interview. 

"  By  my  faith,  madame,"  he  cried  hotly,  "  I  am 
fain  to  fear  that  even  the  seclusion  of  a  convent 
such  as  this  is  not  proof  against  the  poison  !  Can 
it  be,  then,  that  your  sister  has  already  won  your 
ear  to  the  accursed  heresy  with  which  she  has  be 
trayed  the  faith  and  fealty  of  the  house  of  Bourbon, 
and  made  the  name  of  Montpensier  a  byword  and 
a  scorning  to  its  enemies  ?  " 

The  face  of  the  Due  turned  purple,  as  his  fury 
fired  by  his  own  words  grew,  until  great  cords  stood 
out  on  his  forehead.  Louise  de  Long-Vic  watched 
him,  undismayed  ;  she  was  prepared  now  for  his 
worst. 

"  I  shall  live  and  die,  monsieur,"  she  said  rising, 
"  in  the  most  holy  Catholic  faith,  and  in  loyal  sub 
mission  to  the  church  of  which  I  have  sought  to  be 
a  faithful  though  humble  servant.  But  when  you 
speak  of  my  sister,  your  wife,  in  terms  such  as 
these  I  must  decline  to  prolong  our  conference." 

"  Be  seated,  madame  !  "  cried  the  Due.  "  This  is 
no  time  for  play-acting.  I  am  here  for  a  purpose. 
Be  pleased  to  remain  until  that  purpose  is  made 
known  to  you." 

For  a  moment  they  faced  each  other,  the  delicate 
woman  and  the  harsh,  fanatical  tyrant,  as  if  they 
had  been  preparing  for  an  actual  passage  at  arms,  and 
then,  seeing  that  the  crisis  might  not  be  avoided, 
Louise  de  Long-Vic  resumed  her  seat. 

"1  am  here,  madame,"  proceeded  Montpensier, 
"to  cite  you  to  the  understanding  which  was  made 
between  us  at  the  time  my  daughter  was  brought, 
an  infant,  to  Jouarre.  Our  compact  provided  that 
she  should,  in  due  time,  succeed  to  the  position 
which  you  have  held  these  many  years  with  full 
power  and  privilege,  and,  as  is  well  known,  greatly 


40 

to  your  own  advantage.  The  time  is  come  to  act 
upon  that  understanding.  Pardon  my  bluntness, 
madame.  I  am  a  soldier,  not  a  diplomatist.  I  strike 
from  the  shoulder  when  the  time  comes  to  strike. 
You  have  my  errand." 

"  Monsieur,  may  I  recall  to  your  remembrance 
that  the  agreement  which  was  unwritten  regarding 
the  succession  of  your  daughter,  Charlotte,  made 
due  reference  to  her  first  attaining  the  canonical 
age  ?  It  was  never  intended  that  she  should  become 
Abbess  of  Jouarre  in  her  childhood.  Ten  years 
hence  I  shall  gladly  retire  in  her  favor.  To-day, 
monsieur,  pardon  me  if  I  follow  your  lead,  and  my 
self  speak  plainly — the  proposition  is  preposterous." 

"  Ten  years  hence  !  "  and  again  the  Due's  wrath 
rose  high.  "  That  will  give  you  plenty  of  time, 
will  it,  madame,  to  feather  your  nest  with  the 
revenues  of  Jouarre  fully  to  your  mind  ?  Plenty 
of  time  too,  for  these  infernal  heretics  to  pour  their 
poison  into  the  mind  of  my  daughter  ?  Plenty  of 
time  to  compass  the  defeat  of  a  father's  lifelong 
hopes,  and  make  him  the  butt  of  scorn  in  court  and 
camp  !  Mort  Dieu,  madame,  it  is  too  late  to  talk  of 
ten  years  !  A  month  were  better  suited  to  my  in 
tent,  and  would  better  suit  your  character  as  a 
woman  and  as  a  religieuse,  and  as  mother's  sister  to 
my  child.  Have  you  really  her  salvation  at  heart  ? 
or  is  it  only,  as  begins  to  appear,  your  own  worldly 
gain  of  which  you  take  heed  ?  According  to  your 
decision  you  will  be  judged,"  and  Montpensier's 
eyes  scanned  her  face  with  scorching  intensity. 

"  And  the  agreement  of  monsieur  that  I  should 
hold  my  office  until  Mademoiselle  reached  the  fitting 
age  goes  for  naught  ?  "  said  madame,  meeting  his 
look  with  her  own  unshrinking  gaze. 

"  There  was  no  such  agreement,"  replied  the 
Due  hardily.  "  I  remember  nothing  of  the  kind." 

Madame's  face  relaxed  into  a  slight  smile  of  cold, 
incredulous  contempt. 


41 

"Ah,  monsieur,"  she  said  softly,  "at  length  I 
apprehend  you.  You  must  pardon  the  slowness  of 
my  perception.  Until  now  I  had  fancied  myself 
conferring  on  terms  of  faith  and  honor.  I  have  no 
weapons  to  use  in  this  species  of  combat  which  you 
have  chosen.  I  leave  you  master  of  the  field." 

With  these  words,  and  with  eyes  that  shot  their 
gleams  of  scorn  full  upon  his  face,  Louise  de  Long- 
Vic  swept  the  Due  de  Montpensier  a  profound  obei 
sance,  and  so  left  the  room. 

Left  alone,  the  Due  walked  up  and  down  for  a 
little  space,  smiling  cynically. 

"She  has  mettle,"  he  murmured  to  himself; 
"  the  de  Long-Vies  have  fighting  blood,  and  can  set 
up  a  stout  defense  when  you  press  them  too  hard. 
She  is  beaten,  however,  which  for  the  case  in  hand 
is  all  that  can  be  asked." 

A  few  moments  later  an  attendant  was  sum 
moned,  who  was  sent  forthwith  to  fetch  Pere  Ruze 
to  wait  upon  his  grace. 

After  an  hour's  conference,  to  which  Sister  Cecile 
Crue  was  later  bidden,  the  Due's  suite  was  ordered 
to  remount,  and  the  small  but  brilliant  cortege  soon 
rode  out  through  the  abbey  gate,  and  galloped  down 
the  road  to  Meaux,  by  which  they  had  come. 

Pere  Ruze  alone  was  left  behind. 


VI 

"  CETTE  PAUVRE  ENFANT  " 

A  HEALTHY  self-interest  made  Sister  Cecile 
Crue  an  efficient  partner  with  Pere  Ruze  in 
carrying  out  the  will  and  purpose  of  Louis  de 
Montpensier. 

During  the  long  and  worldly  prosperous  rule  of 
Louise  de  Long-Vic  as  abbess  of  Jouarre,  Cecile 
had  grown  to  womanhood  with  an  ever-deepening 
desire  to  share  the  power  to  which  she  had  so  long 
deferred.  Promoted,  by  reason  of  prompt  and  punc 
tilious  service,  to  the  position  of  mistress  of  the 
novices,  she  found  that  with  this  she  had  reached 
the  limit  of  advancement  possible  under  Madame 
de  Long-Vic.  The  prospective  position  of  Char 
lotte  de  Bourbon  at  Jouarre  was  perfectly  under 
stood  by  the  nuns,  but  until  these  last  events  no 
suggestion  of  a  change  in  the  office  of  abbess  for 
many  years  to  come  had  been  whispered. 

With  the  advent  upon  the  quiet  routine  of  con 
vent  life  of  Pere  Ruze,  an  ecclesiastic  of  distinc 
tion  at  the  court  of  France  and  representing  as  he 
did  the  Montpensier  interests,  the  keen  perceptions 
of  Sister  Cecile  detected  a  possibility  of  startling 
and  imminent  revolution.  Plainly  he  was  here  for 
a  purpose. 

The  shrewdness  of  Cecile  at  once  foresaw  in 
this  possible  bouleversement  her  own  and  her  only 
avenue  to  promotion  and  power  and  to  a  share  in 
the  rich  emoluments  of  the  abbey.  With  a  child 
as  prioress,  a  sub-prioress  would  be  an  imperative 
necessity  ;  and  who  would  naturally  be  placed  in 
that  office  but  the  circumspect  mistress  of  the  nov- 
42 


43 

ices,  already  the  subtle  rival  of  madame  in  influ 
ence  among  the  sisters  of  the  house  ? 

Unsuspected  for  a  time  by  madame,  Cecile  had 
shown  herself  to  Pere  Ruze  as  a  supple  and  useful 
tool  in  the  delicate  operation  before  him,  and  a 
quiet  understanding  had  been  formed  between  the 
two  to  which  madame's  eyes  were  at  last  opened. 
It  was  now,  however,  too  late  for  her  to  meet  plot 
with  counterplot  or  to  place  herself  openly  or  se 
cretly  in  opposition  to  the  Due.  A  more  unselfish 
woman  would  perhaps  have  braved  all  odds  and 
fought  a  generous  fight  for  the  helpless  child,  in 
whose  defense  no  champion  but  herself  could  now 
appear. 

Madame,  however,  loved  ease  and  quietude  too 
well  to  enter  the  lists  thus  unequally  equipped  and 
do  battle  for  the  protection  of  a  child  against  her 
own  father,  when  upon  that  father's  side  all  the 
sentiment  and  sympathy  of  her  world  would  be  en 
listed.  Accordingly  she  now  quietly  began  her 
preparations  to  retire  to  the  chateau  of  Long-Vic, 
which  was  hers  by  inheritance,  and  with  cold  and 
scornful  withdrawal  she  left  Ruze  and  Cecile  to 
work  out  their  own  and  their  master's  purposes 
with  Charlotte  de  Bourbon. 

Thus  the  new  year,  1559,  dawned  upon  the  little 
princess  in  strangely  ominous  loneliness.  With 
her  "two  Jeannes  "  she  was  still  forbidden  to  hold 
intercourse.  Her  aunt  was  kind  but  mysteriously 
distant  and  preoccupied,  given,  however,  to  glances 
and  casual  words  of  pity,  a  pity  more  disturbing 
than  her  coldness. 

The  nuns  about  her  began  to  watch  her  with 
curious  looks  and  to  speak  of  her  as  "  cette  pauvre 
enfant." 

No  word  reached  her  from  the  outside  world. 
Neither  from  camp  nor  court  came  any  message  to 
speak  of  a  father's  remembrance  or  a  mother's  love. 
Save  for  poor  Radegonde's  humble  devotion,  the 


44 

assiduous  attentions  of  Pere  Ruze  and  the  espion 
age  of  Sister  Cecile,  Charlotte  was  left  to  herself. 

But  not  for  long  was  she  to  remain  in  ignorance 
of  the  step  which  she  was  destined  next  to  take. 

Pere  Ruze  approached  the  subject  first  in  the 
confessional,  cautiously  suggesting  that  it  was  now 
ti-me  for  herself  and  Jeannette  Vassetz  to  complete 
their  vows  and  assume  the  habit  and  vocation  of 
the  sisterhood. 

To  this  Charlotte  replied  flatly  that  she  did  not 
intend  to  take  the  final  vows  nor  assume  the  habit 
of  the  order ;  in  short,  she  did  not  wish  to  become 
a  religieuse.  A  second  attempt  was  made  with  the 
presence  and  aid  of  Sister  Cecile.  On  this  occasion 
the  intention  of  the  Due  that  Charlotte  should  be 
straightway  exalted  to  the  honors  and  privileges  of 
her  aunt's  position  was  insinuated,  at  first  with 
great  caution  and  then  plainly  declared.  Looking 
from  one  to  the  other  she  made  answer  simply  : 

"Mais,  mon  p&re,  it  is  impossible  !  I  am  only  a 
child.  How  could  I  direct  this  great  house,  and 
govern  all  these  women  who  are  so  much  older  and 
wiser  than  I  ?  You  must  have  misunderstood  my 
father's  wish." 

They  let  her  go  for  that  time,  and  she  hastened 
to  Radegonde,  crying:  "  They  cannot  force  me  to 
make  profession,  they  cannot  force  me  to  become 
abbess  against  my  will,  can  they,  sister  ?  Never, 
never  will  I  consent  to  such  a  thing  !  I  know  my 
mother  loves  me  still,  although  she  never  comes  to 
me  or  sends  me  her  love  and  greeting  any  more. 
But  I  know  of  a  surety  that  she  wishes  me  to  go 
back  to  her,  and  I  am  going,  Radegonde.  I  am 
going  as  soon  as  she  sends  for  me  !  " 

Then  Radegonde  said  plainly  :  "  Mignonne,  your 
mother  will  never  send  for  you.  That  is  beyond 
her  power.  You  are  in  the  hands  of  Pere  Ruze. 
Do  not  struggle  against  his  will.  Remember  the 
words  of  monseigneur." 


45 

That  night,  as  on  many  another  which  followed 
it,  Charlotte  cried  herself  to  sleep,  and  the  child- 
heart  within  her  fainted  for  fear.  But  when  day 
light  came  her  courage  returned,  and  again  and 
yet  again  she  met  the  advances  of  the  priest  with 
steady,  albeit  respectful  repulse,  worthy  of  the  high 
Bourbon  spirit  and  resolution  which  were  within 
her. 

Then  at  length  Sister  Cecile  came  to  Ruze  after 
compline  one  dreary  March  evening  and  said  : 

"  Mon  p&re,  behold,  we  prevail  nothing.  The 
winter  is  over,  you  perceive,  and  as  yet  nothing 
has  been  accomplished.  Madame  is  but  too  well 
suited  and  speaks  no  more  of  departure.  You  are 
content,  then,  to  let  this  baby  outwit  you  ?  Me- 
thinks  monseigneur  will  find  you  something  soft 
hearted,  n'est-ce  pas  ?  " 

Ruze  looked  at  the  nun  with  a  slow,  inscrutable 
smile.  He  had  that  morning  received  a1  messenger 
from  the  Due. 

"  Do  not  disturb  yourself,  Sister  Cecile,"  he 
said  ;  "  something  will  be  done  to-night.  I  must 
ask  you  to  bring  Mademoiselle  to  matins  and  re 
main  in  the  chapel  until  I  can  join  you." 

Cecile  looked  into  the  face  of  the  priest  with 
shrewd  inquiry,  but  received  for  the  nonce  no 
further  enlightenment. 

Under  the  present  regime  Charlotte  had  been  re 
moved  from  the  immediate  care  and  oversight  of 
madame  and  a  small  carrol  adjoining  the  chamber 
of  Sister  Cecile  in  the  novices'  house  had  been  as 
signed  her.  Scrupulously  neat,  like  all  the  cells  of 
the  nuns,  its  furnishing  consisted  of  a  narrow  bed 
and  a  chair  of  unpainted  wood,  a  benitier  against 
the  wall,  above  which  hung  a  "discipline"  or 
scourge,  and  a  rush  mat  or  two  on  the  cold  stone 
floor. 

Here,  just  after  midnight,  Sister  Cecile,  candle 
in  hand,  fully  clad  in  her  black  hood  and  robes, 


46 

stood  for  a  moment  to  watch  before  waking  the 
unconscious  child.  Released  from  its  coif,  Char 
lotte's  hair  flowed  in  bright  waves  over  the  pil 
low  ;  her  small  hands  were  clasped  and  nestled 
under  her  chin ;  her  face  was  exquisite  in  its 
dreamless  repose  ;  her  very  attitude  as  she  lay  on 
the  hard,  white  bed  and  the  lines  of  her  graceful 
though  childish  form  bore  a  dignity  which  touched 
the  sense  of  the  woman  beside  her  with  an  inde 
finable  awe. 

"  Take  heed  that  ye  despise  not  one  of  these  little 
ones;  for  I  say  unto  you,  that  in  heaven  their  angels 
do  always  behold  the  face  of  my  Father. ' ' 

Words  like  these  came  to  her  memory  with  star 
tling  distinctness  in  the  hush  and  stillness  which 
held  the  place  and  brought  with  them  an  inner 
trembling.  Had  this  child,  then,  with  her  pure 
brow  and  the  strange  majesty  of  her  innocence, 
an  angel  in'  silence  beholding,  invisibly  defending, 
in  sternness  witnessing  against  that  which  should 
be  done  ? 

For  an  instant  Cecile,  not  highly  gifted  with  im 
agination  or  with  sympathy,  drew  back  and  hesi 
tated.  Even  then  the  slow  chiming  of  the  convent 
bell  struck  upon  her  ear  in  the  silence,  sad  minor 
tones,  but  persistent,  authoritative,  and  not  to  be 
withstood. 

Laying  her  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  sleep 
ing  child,  Cecile  held  the  candle  where  its  rays 
struck  full  upon  the  quiet  eyelids,  and  called 
softly  :  "  Waken,  Mademoiselle,  you  must  rise  and 
come  with  me  to  matins." 

Charlotte  opened  her  eyes,  against  which  the 
light  smote  poignantly,  smiled  up  into  the  face  of 
the  nun  with  the  instinctive  habit  of  sweet-hearted 
childhood,  and  murmured  sleepily:  "But  I  never 
had  to  go  to  matins  before,  Sister  Cecile,  had  I  ? 
That  is  altogether  new  ;  but  I  shall  not  mind,  you 
know,"  her  feet  already  on  the  floor  and  her  ten- 


47 

der  limbs  trembling  from  the  bitter  chill  of  the 
night. 

Quickly  dressed,  Charlotte  took  a  candle  which 
Cecile  gave  her  and  followed  her  through  the  dark, 
winding  passages  which  led  to  the  cloister.  Spec 
tral  figures  of  nuns,  with  their  long,  black  hoods 
and  pallid  faces,  glided  on  before  them,  each  with 
her  flickering  candle,  each  chanting  a  low,  lugubri 
ous  strain.  Thus  they  passed  through  the  dark 
ness  and  rigor  of  the  cold  cloister,  where  a  moon  as 
pallid  as  the  faces  of  the  nuns  looked  coldly  down 
upon  them  through  the  ancient  arches,  and  entered 
the  transept  door  of  the  Sainte  Chapelle. 

Lighted  only  by  one  dull,  misty  lamp  burning 
before  the  altar,  the  interior  of  the  church  of  Jou- 
arre  was  at  this  hour  like  a  pit  of  blackness,  in 
which  Charlotte's  eyes  presently  could  discern  the 
crouching  shapes  of  the  sisters  kneeling  on  the 
floor.  As  in  a  wail  of  yearning  heaviness  the 
voices,  some  harsh,  some  strangely  sweet,  rose  in 
the  chant : 

"  Deus  in  meum  adjuvandem  me  festina." 

At  the  altar,  with  hands  folded  over  the  cross 
upon  his  breast,  stood  the  imposing  figure  of  Jean 
Ruze.  Unnoted,  apparently,  by  the  others,  Cecile 
led  Charlotte  to  the  deeper  shadow  of  the  stone 
desk  near  the  choir,  where  with  sharp,  observant 
eyes,  stood  the  circa,  to  whom  belonged  the  disci 
pline  of  the  nocturnal  services. 

Dazed  and  wondering,  Charlotte  knelt  beside 
Sister  Cecile  while  psalm  and  prayer  followed  in 
monotonous  course,  and  when  the  final  words  of 
benediction  had  been  spoken  and  she  would  have 
unbent  her  stiffened  knees  and  risen  from  the  cold 
pavement,  a  touch  on  her  shoulder  admonished  her 
not  to  leave  her  place. 

Then,  all  the  nuns  having  passed  with  noiseless 
tread  from  the  chapel,  these  two  still  kneeling  alone 
in  the  icy  gloom,  Charlotte  saw  Pere  Ruze,  who, 


48 

coming  from  the  sanctuary  with  slow  and  solemn 
steps,  stood  before  them  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  with  his  benevolent 
smile  and  mellow  voice,  "  1  must  ask  you  and  Sis 
ter  Cecile  to  come  with  me." 

He  turned  then,  and  they  followed  him  in  perfect 
silence  through  the  dim  choir  out  into  the  Lady 
Chapel  and  thence  by  a  narrow  passage  lighted  only 
by  their  own  candles,  to  a  flight  of  steep,  descend 
ing  stairs  cut  apparently  in  the  rock  upon  which  the 
chapel  had  been  built. 

Charlotte  hesitated  here  for  a  moment,  repelled 
by  the  dark,  earthy  vapors  which  rose  from  below, 
but  a  motion  of  Cedle's  eyelids  impelled  her  still 
to  follow,  and  after  a  moment  of  dizzy  winding 
down  the  steep,  spiral  staircase  they  reached  the 
crypt  of  Saint  Paul,  the  mortuary  chamber  of  the 
abbey  church.  At  a  signal  given  by  the  hand  and 
eye  of  the  priest,  Cecile  halted  and  remained 
standing  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  candle  in  hand, 
with  downcast  eyes  and  still,  impassive  counte 
nance,  while,  taking  Charlotte  by  her  hand,  he 
led  her  forward  into  the  cavernous  spaces  which 
stretched  before  them  in  thick  darkness. 

As  they  advanced,  the  light  from  the  torch  which 
the  priest  carried  and  from  Charlotte's  faint  candle 
brought  out  into  fleeting  sight  the  weird,  fantastic 
sculpture  of  the  heavy  Norman  pillars  supporting 
the  low  vaulted  roof,  the  vague  outlines  of  the 
old  Merovingian  tombs,  the  ghostly  effigies  of  saints 
rising  at  intervals  between  the  shafts.  When  they 
stopped  it  was  before  a  central  tomb,  in  which  re 
posed,  open  to  their  view,  a  figure  of  the  dead 
Christ  in  stone,  startling  and  dreadful  in  its  veri 
similitude. 

Until  now  neither  the  priest  nor  the  child  had 
broken  the  silence  of  the  place  by  a  word. 

Charlotte  had  grown  paler  and  a  sharp  contrac 
tion  of  her  throat  made  every  breath  a  pang  ;  but 


49 

there  was  calmness  still  in  the  look  which  she  now 
lifted  to  the  face  of  her  confessor.  It  said  that  she 
was  perturbed,  shaken,  and  oppressed,  but  in  it 
there  was  still  the  divine  confidence  of  childhood. 
It  was  a  look  which  searchingly  inquired,  but 
which  did  not  reproach.  The  eyes  of  Pere  Ruze 
were  veiled  against  the  look  which  they  could  not 
meet. 

With  studied  deliberation  he  now  fastened  his 
torch  into  a  rusty  iron  socket  which  projected  from 
a  pillar  closely  fronting  the  tomb  and  its  awful  fig 
ure,  then  seated  himself  upon  a  block  of  stone 
which  formed  the  base  of  the  pillar,  gently  took 
the  candle  from  the  hand  of  the  child,  extinguished 
it  and  placed  it  on  the  floor  beside  him.  Every 
movement  of  Pere  Ruze  was  suave  and  of  a  sooth 
ing  gentleness,  and  yet,  as  he  now  held  out  his 
strong,  white  hand  and  drew  her  to  his  knee,  and 
even  as  he  laid  that  hand  as  if  in  blessing  on  her 
head,  the  child  trembled  violently,  and  an  irrepres 
sible  sob  broke  from  her  lips.  Still  she  did  not 
speak.  She  left  the  initiative  of  this  strange  collo 
quy  wholly  to  the  priest,  who,  perchance,  found  it 
not  altogether  easy. 

"My  daughter,"  he  said  presently,  with  his 
most  subduing  softness,  "to-night  a  final  question 
must  be  asked  of  you,  and  your  final  answer  must 
be  given." 

The  thick,  murky  blackness  around  them  swal 
lowed  up  the  red  flare  of  the  torch  and  seemed  to 
rest  palpably  upon  them  in  the  breathless  silence. 

"  I  have  even  to-day  received  commands  from 
his  grace,  your  noble  father.  We  have  too  long 
yielded  to  your  strange  unwillingness  to  take  upon 
you  the  holy  vows  to  which  you  were  pledged 
in  your  cradle,  to  tread  the  path  of  sanctity  and 
peace,  to  be  exalted  to  the  high  privilege  of  the 
mother  of  God's  saints." 

Still  the  child  did  not  speak. 

D 


50 

"I  ask  you,  Charlotte  de 'Bourbon,"  and  now 
the  voice  of  the  priest  assumed  a  solemnity  which 
she  had  never  heard  before,  and  an  inflexible  stern 
ness  took  the  place  of  the  pacifying  smile  which 
usually  dwelt  upon  his  lips,  "I  ask  you  once 
more,  in  the  name  of  our  blessed  Lord,  whose 
sacred,  broken  body  is  now  before  you,  will  you 
obey  the  voice  of  your  father,  the  voice  of  your 
father  in  God,  the  voice  of  Holy  Church  which 
has  graciously  protected  and  nourished  you  through 
all  the  years  of  your  life,  and  perform  the  duty  now 
commanded  you  ?  " 

"Father,  I  cannot."  Her  voice  was  low,  her 
breast  heaved  with  piteous  sobs  ;  she  stood  defense 
less,  but  her  steadfastness  was  unmoved.  "  I  have 
no  vocation  to  be  a  religieuse ;  something  in  my  heart 
forbids  me.  I  want  to  go  to  my  mother.  I  want  to 
be  free.  If  I  take  these  vows  it  would  be  without 
heart,  it  would  be  false  and  vain." 

The  short,  broken  sentences  followed  each  other 
with  the  sharp,  gasping  breath  between.  The 
priest  took  the  little  hand,  which  hung  limp  and 
nerveless  by  her  side,  and  laid  it  on  his  knee. 

"So,"  he  said  softly,  "do  not  close  the  fingers. 
Let  them  lie  thus,  slackened."  And  he  placed  the 
forefinger  and  thumb  of  his  own  right  hand  upon 
the  small  wrist,  in  which  the  pulse  labored  fiercely, 
and  so  continued  to  hold  it  throughout  the  interview. 
It  would  not  do  to  go  too  far.  Even  Montpensier 
would  prefer  to  stop  short  of  an  extremity. 

But  even  with  this  action,  whose  gentleness 
veiled  a  purpose  beyond  the  child's  innocent  appre 
hension,  Ruze's  lips  sharpened  again  to  their  cruel 
sternness,  thinly  masked  in  a  smile. 

"  Mademoiselle,  you  must  understand  that  this 
profession,  this  sacred  office,  while  irrevocably 
binding,  may  lie  gently  and  pleasantly  upon  you. 
You  have  known  confinement  and  discipline  suited 
to  your  years  and  the  term  of  your  novitiate.  As 


Abbess  of  Jouarre  you  will  know  power,  ease,  lux 
ury,  wealth,  and  pleasure.  Where  you  have  hith 
erto  obeyed,  you  may  henceforth  command.  You 
will  be  answerable  only  to  your  confessor,  and  he 
will  be  your  dependent.  It  is  a  gracious  and  an 
easy  task  that  is  set  you,  Charlotte  de  Bourbon. 
Think  well  before  you  reject  it,  for  child  though 
you  are,  the  church  will  not  forcibly  exalt  those 
who  reject  her  gifts." 

But  the  heart  of  the  little  maid  was  not  more 
accessible  to  this  appeal  than  to  those  which  had 
gone  before. 

"Father,"  she  said,  "it  is  not  wealth  and  ease 
and  pleasure  that  I  want ;  I  want  love,  I  want  lib 
erty.  I  will  die  rather  than  be  Abbess  of  Jouarre." 

"  You  prefer  death,  Mademoiselle  ?  Death,  how 
ever,  may  not  be  so  easy.  Do  you,  then,  prefer 
Fontevrault  ?  " 

This  word  acted  upon  the  child  with  strange 
effect.  The  small  frame  shuddered  visibly,  and 
wavered  as  it  stood. 

"Mademoiselle  has  heard,  perhaps,  of  Fonte 
vrault  ?  " 

She  bent  her  head  in  faint  assent. 

"Yes,"  said  the  priest  reflectively,  "at  Fonte 
vrault  there  is  a  donjon  not  unlike  the  donjon  at 
Jouarre,  and  a  crypt  beneath  resembling  the  place 
where  you  now  stand.  In  this  crypt,  however," 
he  proceeded  with  slow,  gentle  emphasis,  "there 
are  small  cells  enclosed  in  stone  walls  of  unusual 
thickness.  The  door  of  such  a  cell  is  of  oak,  and 
also  quite  heavy.  There  is  no  window,  save  a 
grating  in  the  door. 

"  The  church  is  tender,  Mademoiselle,  and  nour 
ishes  her  children  like  a  mother  so  long  as  they  are 
penitent  and  obedient.  For  the  rebellious  and 
hard-hearted,  for  those  who  defy  their  parents  and 
seek  their  own  foolish  will,  there  remains  such  a 
refuge  as  Fontevrault  can  give.  Childhood  will 


52 

not  save  you,  Charlotte  de  Bourbon,  nor  rank,  nor 
tears.  Your  father  has  made  known  his  will. 
Either  obedience  or  a  quiet  cell  in  Fontevrault, 
where  one  does  not  die,  but  from  which  one  does 
not  return." 

"Oh,  monptre!" 

With  a  cry  of  anguish  the  child,  pressed  now  too 
hard  for  her  endurance,  drooped  suddenly,  and  with 
closing  eyes  and  relaxing  limbs  sank  upon  the 
mouldy  floor  of  the  crypt  at  the  feet  of  Ruze. 

Keeping  his  finger  still  upon  her  wrist  to  satisfy 
himself  that  he  had  not  gone  too  far,  the  priest 
murmured,  "  Paiivre  enfant, "  with  cold  compassion, 
and  then  resting  his  head  against  the  pillar  behind 
him,  tapped  softly  upon  its  stone  surface. 

Instantly  Sister  Cecile  was  at  his  side.  She 
stooped  over  the  child,  who  lay  as  if  dead. 

"Leave  her  a  little,"  said  Ruze  calmly.  "She 
will  recover  presently." 

"  How  do  matters  stand  ?  " 

"  Wait  a  moment  and  see." 

That  moment  of  waiting  beside  the  unconscious 
child  in  the  lurid  glow  of  the  single  torch  and  the 
dreadful  hush  of  the  crypt  never  faded  from  the 
memory  of  Sister  Cecile. 

When,  finally,  Charlotte  opened  her  eyes,  she 
was  lifted  gently  and  supported  in  the  arms  of  the 
nun.  As  the  color  slowly  returned  to  her  lips  and 
the  light  to  her  eyes  the  sense  of  what  had  passed 
came  again  to  her  mind,  and  she  looked  directly 
into  the  face  of  Pere  Ruze  with  a  long  look,  as  of 
one  greatly  astonished.  Several  moments  passed 
before  she  could  speak.  Then  she  said  imperiously : 

"  I  wish  to  leave  this  place  now.     It  is  enough." 

"  And  what  does  Mademoiselle  answer  to  the 
command  of  her  father  ?  ''  asked  the  priest  with 
unrelenting  face. 

"  You  may  say  to  him  that  I  will  allow  them  to 
make  me  Abbess  of  Jouarre." 


53 

Then,  after  brief  pause,  she  added,  drawing  away 
from  the  supporting  arms  of  Cecile  Crue  and  lifting 
her  head  with  a  sorrowful  loftiness  infinitely  pa 
thetic  :  "  You  may  say  to  him  that  I  am  no  longer 
a  child." 


VII 

CROSS  AND  STAFF 

ON  the  seventeenth  day  of  March,  in  the  year 
of  grace  1559,  trie  convent  bells  of  Jouarre 
rang  out  a  joyful  and  triumphant  peal. 
Royal  banners  streamed  in  the  morning  sun  from 
every  tower  and  turret,  and  the  deep  tones  of  the 
organ  poured  from  the  open  west  door  of  the  Sainte 
Chapelle. 

From  the  neighboring  village  and  from  the  crofts 
and  manors  of  La  Brie  came  peasants,  knights,  and 
tradesfolk,  all  in  holiday  garb,  and  made  gala  pro 
cession  through  the  abbey  gates  and  across  the 
great  green  courtyard,  streaming  into  the  church. 
For  to-day,  with  cross  and  chrism,  with  solemn  sac 
rifice  and  exultant  Te  Deum,  the  ancient  monastery 
is  to  receive  and  consecrate  as  its  mother  superieure 
a  princess  of  the  blood,  a  fair  lily-maid  of  the  house 
of  Bourbon. 

So  let  the  banners  wave,  the  trumpets  blow,  the 
organ  music  roll  resounding  !  Let  the  royal  virgin 
receive  such  welcome  as  befits  her,  and  let  the  holy 
women  of  Jouarre  bow  in  reverence  before  their 
head  ! 

Crowding  hard  upon  each  other,  even  to  the 
doors,  the  spectators,  gentle  and  simple,  saw  the 
solemn  procession  of  priests  enter  the  choir,  saw 
the  bishop's  chair  filled,  not  by  monseigneur  of 
Meaux,  but  by  Pere  Ruze,  bishop  not  yet,  but  soon 
to  be,  and  noted  that  he  was  of  presence  serene  and 
august,  heard  the  deep  voice  behind  the  altar  sing  : 

Prudentes  virgines,  aptate  vestras  lampades, 
Ecce,  Sponsus  venit,  exite  obviam  ei! 

54 


55 

saw  then  the  ranks  of  nuns  pass  down  the  sanc 
tuary,  responding  in  sweet  strains  of  holy  con 
fidence, 

Unto  the  hills  lift  I  up  mine  eyes 
From  whence  cometh  my  help  ; 

saw  not  the  Lady  Louise  de  Long-Vic,  but  in  her 
place  Madame  du  Paraclete,  brought  hither  from  her 
famous  convent  at  Nogent,  the  see  of  Jouarre  hav 
ing  been  declared  vacant. 

With  candles  in  their  hands,  a  company  of  youth 
ful  postulantes,  among  them  Jeanne  de  Mousson 
and  Jeannette  Vassetz,  pass  presently  before  his 
reverence,  and  with  ceremonial  full  sweet  and 
solemn,  make  their  profession.  They  receive  the 
black  robes  and  veils  of  the  order,  still  glistening 
with  the  holy  drops  from  the  silver  benitier,  while 
the  nuns  in  plaintive  voices  are  singing,  "Adieu 
du  tMonde." 

But  who  is  this  that  comes  ?  A  murmur  like  a 
wave  of  ruth  and  tenderness  sweeps  through  the 
curious  multitude. 

Led  by  the  mistress  of  the  novices,  whose  face 
alone  is  cold  and  stern,  with  steps  that  falter, 
comes  a  forlorn  and  fragile  child,  robed  in  deepest 
black.  A  white  veil  falls  from  her  head  ;  beneath 
it  her  face  shows  wan  and  woe-stricken.  She 
kneels  at  the  feet  of  Pere  Ruze  and  trembles  visibly 
so  to  kneel.  A  voice  then  begs  his  reverence,  if  it 
seem  good  in  his  eyes,  to  receive  and  to  bless  this 
young  virgin  and  to  unite  her  in  spiritual  union  to 
Christ,  and  to  grant  his  benediction  upon  her  ex 
altation  to  the  holy  headship  of  this  order. 

The  deep,  sonorous  voice  of  Pere  Ruze  inquires  if 
then  the  priest  so  speaking  believes  this  young  vir 
gin  worthy.  Receiving  the  answer,  "Yes,"  he 
proceeds  to  put  to  her  the  solemn  questions  as  to 
her  sincerity  and  freedom  in  this  action  and  her  full 
comprehension  of  the  rules  of  the  order. 


56 

Does  the  child  reply  ?  Some  who  are  very  near 
her  see  tears  fast  falling  as  bright  as  the  drops  of 
holy  water,  but  they  hear  no  voice. 

Nevertheless,  the  stately  ritual  proceeds.  The 
Veni  Creator  is  sung  with  thrilling  power  and  the 
office  of  high  mass  is  celebrated  with  much  mag 
nificence.  Pere  Ruze  turns  now  in  full  pontificals 
to  administer  to  the  abbess-elect  before  all  others 
the  sacred  host.  Again  she  is  led  to  the  altar  rail 
by  Sister  Cecile,  and  this  time,  as  she  kneels,  a 
candle  is  held  in  one  small,  trembling  hand,  and 
a  white  paper  in  the  other,  from  which  she  is  to 
read  before  the  assembly.  This  paper  contains  the 
formula,  written  and  signed  by  herself,  of  the 
irrevocable  vows  which  Charlotte  de  Bourbon, 
daughter  of  Louis  de  Bourbon  and  Jacqueline  de 
Long-Vic,  shall  now,  of  her  own  free  will  and  intent, 
make  and  pronounce. 

All  ears  are  strained  to  catch  a  syllable  of  those 
vows  coming  from  the  white  and  quivering  lips,  but 
not  even  the  nuns  who  are  nearest  her  can  be  sure 
that  they  have  heard  a  word. 

And  yet  it  is  a  vow  of  singular  and  unprecedented 
mildness,  containing,  so  those  who  know  say  after 
ward,  'paroles  donees  effort  legeres." 

A  murmur  goes  about  the  chapel.  The  scene  is 
not  altogether  of  a  sort  to  suit  the  mood  of  the 
people.  Is  this  a  valid  consecration  ?  Is  it  made 
with  the  free  will  of  the  postulante  ?  Even  Pere 
Ruze  hesitates  an  instant  with  an  irrepressible 
frown,  but  the  point  of  danger  is  quickly  covered. 

Madame  du  Paraclete,  acting  as  abbess,  has  ad 
vanced  with  the  long  black  veil,  the  abbatial  ring, 
and  the  pectoral  cross  and  staff.  Sister  Cecile 
Crue  has  taken  the  folded  paper,  with  its  counter 
feit  vows,  from  the  hand  of  the  child,  to  deliver  to 
the  priest,  and  who  but  old  Radegonde  sees  that 
she  dexterously  slips  it  into  her  own  bosom  and  sub 
stitutes  for  it  another  paper  ?  On  this  are  written 


57 

the  full  vows  of  the  order,  unshaded  and  unsoftened 
in  their  stern  import,  vows  which  the  unconscious 
child  has  never  seen  but  which  she  has  thus  taken 
upon  herself. 

Veil  and  ring,  cross  and  crozier,  are  now  duly 
blessed  and  sprinkled  at  the  hands  of  Pere  Ruze 
and  given  then  to  Madame  du  Paraclete.  By  her,  in 
turn,  they  are  bestowed  upon  the  child-abbess  with 
words  of  solemn  investiture,  who  turns  then  with 
mechanical  obedience  at  the  bidding  of  the  priest 
to  face  the  eager  throng.  For  a  moment  all  behold 
the  childish  shape,  wrapped  now  by  the  clinging 
folds  of  the  black  veil.  Against  her  breast  she 
presses  the  great  abbatial  cross  in  that  right  hand 
on  which  the  massive  ring  weighs  all  too  heavily. 
The  childish  face,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  pomp  of 
symbol,  is  white  like  that  of  death.  The  eyes  are 
lifted  now  ;  they  are  wide  and  blue  and  innocent, 
but  with  a  look  tragic  and  heart-rending.  It  is  a 
look  that  sees  nothing  ! 

Again  the  music  thunders  forth  ;  the  Te  Deum, 
with  full  organ  and  trumpet,  makes  the  air  vibrant 
through  all  the  precincts  of  the  abbey.  The  child 
is  seated  now  in  the  seat  of  the  Abbess  of  Jouarre. 

But  the  cross  and  staff  are  quickly  laid  aside, 
and  the  Abbess  of  Jouarre,  a  child  in  her  nurse's 
arms,  is  carried,  as  the  joyous  bells  ring  the  people 
out  into  the  sunlight  again,  and  is  laid  in  a  narrow 
bed  in  old  Radegonde's  cell.  So  she  lies  with  wide- 
open  but  unseeing  eyes  and  the  murmurs  of  de 
lirium  incoherent  and  broken  on  her  dry  lips.  It  is 
so  that  the  mistress  of  the  novices  finds  her,  but 
she  finds  also  Radegonde  barring  the  entrance  to 
the  place,  Radegonde,  with  a  stern  and  wrathful 
light  in  her  dim  old  eyes,  saying  : 

"You  have  had  your  way  with  her,  Cecile  Crue  ! 
Now  it  is  my  turn.  If  she  lives,  it  will  be  because 
I  shall  love  her  back  to  life.  If  she  dies,  it  will  be 
only  I  who  will  weep  over  her." 


VIII 
LITTLE  SAINT  SILENCE 

THE  court  was  at  Vincennes.    Henri  II.  had  illus 
trious  guests  to  entertain  and  a  great  hunt  in 
the   famous   forest  was  to  be  given  in  their 
honor. 

The  guests  of  France  were  also  her  hostages. 

The  war  against  the  aggressions  of  the  great  em 
peror,  Charles  V.,  which  for  eight  years  had  ravaged 
the  borders  of  France  and  Flanders  had  in  April  been 
brought  to  a  conclusion. 

Charles,  from  his  retirement  in  the  monastery  of 
St.  Yuste,  in  Spain,  had  watched  with  irrepressible 
eagerness  the  progress  of  that  contest  which  he  had 
so  reluctantly  left  for  his  son  Philip  to  carry  on. 
But  the  old  emperor  watched  no  more.  In  Septem 
ber  the  programme  of  death  which  with  his  instinct 
for  the  spectacular  he  had  so  often  rehearsed  had 
taken  place  in  stern  reality,  and  the  last  world-em 
peror  had  left  forever  that  motley  stage  on  which 
his  part  was  played  out. 

The  success  of  Philip's  arms  had  been  barren  of 
permanent  results,  and  had  brought  but  little  glow 
of  pride  or  lust  for  further  military  glory  to  his 
sombre  spirit.  Another  and  a  sterner  war  was  in 
his  thought.  France  too  was  facing  a  great  internal 
upheaval  and  was  glad  to  draw  her  armies  back 
into  her  own  domain. 

At  Cateau-Cambresis,  on  the  third  day  of  April, 
1559,  the  kings  of  France  and  of  Spain  annulled  the 
results  of  the  long  struggle  and  made  mutual  resto 
ration  of  their  conquests  on  the  frontiers  of  Flanders 
and  of  Italy. 
58 


59 

A  new  era  in  the  history  of  Europe  opened  that 
day,  for  in  the  inglorious  treaty  which  closed  a  futile 
war  lay,  scarcely  concealed,  the  outlines  of  that 
monstrous  conspiracy  against  the  rights  of  man  and 
the  spirit  of  the  age  for  which  Philip  and  Henri 
gladly  laid  aside  all  other  purposes. 

What  better  than  a  marriage  between  the  houses 
of  their  Catholic  and  very  Christian  majesties  could 
seal  these  acts  of  diplomacy  ?  Philip,  thirty-two 
and  already  twice  married  was  at  the  moment,  and 
most  opportunely  it  appeared,  himself  marriageable. 
Left  a  widower  four  months  before,  he  had  promptly 
offered  his  hand  to  Elizabeth  of  England,  step-sister 
and  rival  of  his  late  bitter  and  suspicious  spouse, 
Mary  Tudor,  but  having  been  rejected,  he  was  still 
free.  The  eldest  daughter  of  Henri  II.,  Isabella  of 
Valois,  was  now  a  girl  of  fourteen.  She  had,  it  is 
true,  been  betrothed  to  Don  Carlos,  son  of  Philip, 
but  the  first  compact  was  speedily  canceled  and  a 
fresh  one  effected  with  the  king  of  Spain  himself  as 
bridegroom  elect.  The  festivities  attending  the 
marriage  promptly  to  follow  were  already  beginning, 
for  it  was  now  June. 

From  Cambresis  the  French  king  had  brought 
back  to  Paris  as  hostages  four  noblemen  high  in 
the  service  of  Spain,  who  were  to  remain  at  his  court 
for  a  time  as  pledges  for  the  execution  of  the  new 
treaty. 

Well  pleased  with  the  results  of  the  long  confer 
ence,  Henri  showed  his  satisfaction  by  lavishing  his 
hospitality  upon  his  guests  in  royal  measure.  Fe"tes 
and  revelries  had  succeeded  each  other  in  bewil 
dering  profusion  at  the  palace  of  the  Louvre,  and 
to  vary  the  gayety  by  sport  of  a  hardier  sort,  the 
court  had  now  made  excursion  to  the  ancient 
chateau  of  Vincennes  for  a  season  of  hunting  in 
the  famous  forest. 

The  great  courtyard  of  the  castle  was  alive, 
therefore,  on  this  bright  June  morning  with  a  bril- 


6o 

liant  company  gathered  to  participate  in  the  hunt 
or  to  watch  the  departure.  The  pavement  re 
sounded  beneath  the  clatter  of  hoofs  of  the  horses 
led  by  the  bit  by  their  masters'  grooms,  while  the 
hounds  in  leash  barking  impatiently,  the  cracking 
of  whips,  the  shrill  whistles  of  the  pages,  and  the 
loud  and  merry  voices  of  the  pleasure-seekers  filled 
the  air  with  tumult. 

Already  mounted  upon  a  blooded  chestnut,  which 
curvetted  proudly  with  arched  neck  and  tossing 
mane,  displaying  her  superb  horsemanship  to  ad 
vantage,  appeared  the  Duchesse  de  Valentinois, 
better  known  as  Diane  de  Poitiers. 

Her  still  brilliant  beauty  and  the  magnificence  of 
her  figure,  invulnerable  it  seemed  to  the  weapons 
of  time,  still  carried  every  eye  to  follow  all  her 
looks  and  motions.  In  her  close  black  hunting 
dress,  relieved  only  by  facings  of  white  and  a  white 
panache  in  the  small  black  velvet  toque,  looking 
the  very  embodiment  of  the  spirit  of  the  chase, 
Diane  swept  at  a  gallop  around  the  court.  Reining 
up  her  hunter  before  the  stone  balustrade  which 
capped  the  terrace,  she  saluted  a  lady  in  violet 
velvet  who  stood  there  with  a  small  group  of  at 
tendants  and  who  held  a  little  girl  by  the  hand. 

Beside  her  and  bending  to  hear  her  speak,  a  tall, 
spare  man  of  military  bearing  was  standing,  a  man 
with  a  stern,  cadaverous  face,  a  beak  nose,  deep- 
set  black  eyes  under  a  high  and  brazen  forehead, 
and  a  long  beard  flowing  over  the  collar  of  the 
Fleece  which  adorned  his  dark,  fur-trimmed  doublet. 

The  lady,  whose  face  was  of  the  fineness  as  well 
as  of  the  tint  of  ivory,  a  face  which  in  its  smooth 
impassiveness  was  a  mask  to  whatever  emotions 
might  fill  her  mind,  replied  to  the  salutation  of 
Diane  in  a  low  voice  and  with  peculiar  sweetness 
in  her  smile. 

"You  never  were  lovelier,  dear  duchesse,  even 
in  your  youth,"  she  said  with  an  air  of  artless  im- 


6i 

pulsiveness.  "Is  it  not  true,  monsieur,  that  Mad 
ame  de  Valentinois  is  the  brightest  ornament  of  this 
or  any  court  in  Europe  ?  "  and  she  turned  with 
smiling  appeal  to  the  dark  man  beside  her.  He 
was  one  of  the  hostages  from  Spain,  and  one  of  the 
greatest  generals  of  his  time,  being  none  other  than 
the  renowned  Ferdinando  Alvarez  de  Toledo,  better 
known  as  Alva.  He  bowed  profoundly  at  this  chal 
lenge,  but  his  gravity  did  not  relax,  and  his  eyes 
rested  upon  the  brilliant  face  of  Diane  with  cold 
neutrality. 

"What  your  majesty  says  may  surely  not  be 
disputed,"  he  said  in  a  dull  and  half-reluctant  voice, 
as  if  despising  the  gallantry  into  which  he  was 
forced  ;  "  but  where  the  queen  of  France  can  be 
seen  men  can  hardly  have  eyes  for  others,  however 
fair." 

Diane  flashed  a  smile  of  insolent  amusement  into 
the  bronzed  face  of  the  unresponsive  warrior,  and 
then  sat  in  her  saddle  noting  for  an  instant,  although 
with  undisguised  indifference,  the  movements  of  the 
queen.  Catharine  de  Medici  bent  now  with  an 
action  of  graceful  and  becoming  modesty  and  as  if 
to  hide  a  confusion  at  the  grim  flattery  of  Alva 
which  she  was  far  from  feeling,  and  lifting  in  her 
arms  the  little  Princess  Marguerite  placed  her  upon 
the  broad  flat  stone  of  the  parapet.  The  child  was 
of  piquant  loveliness,  and  sat  looking  out  at  the 
lively  scene  before  her,  her  dark  locks  stirred  by 
the  sweet  breath  of  the  June  morning.  Her  two 
brothers,  the  Due  d'  Orleans  and  the  Due  d'  Anjou, 
boys  of  seven  and  eight  years,  were  caracolling 
around  the  courtyard  mounted  on  small  but  spirited 
horses,  and  the  child  laughed  aloud  and  clapped  her 
hands  as  they  saluted  her  in  passing  with  noisy 
banter  and  boyish  show  of  daring. 

"  And  where  are  your  confreres  this  morning, 
monsieur  ?  "  Catharine  now  asked  of  the  Spanish 
general. 


62 

"  They  are  coming  hither  even  now,  madame," 
was  the  reply,  "or  rather  Egmont  and  the  Duke 
of  Aerschot  are  approaching.  I  have  not  seen  the 
prince  this  morning." 

At  this  moment  the  two  Flemish  grandees,  the 
gallant  hero  of  Gravelines,  Lamoral  of  Egmont, 
and  the  Lord  of  Aerschot,  crossing  the  pavement 
below  the  terrace,  advanced  to  the  parapet,  and, 
uncovering,  paid  their  devoirs  to  the  queen  and  her 
ladies.  Both  gayly  kissed  the  tiny  hand  of  the  little 
Marguerite,  who  at  once  began  to  coquette  with 
Egmont,  to  whom  she  was  instinctively  attracted, 
and  who  received  the  favor  of  the  royal  child  with 
merry  and  charming  deference. 

His  Spanish  colleague,  Alva,  watched  this  dally 
ing  the  while  with  a  curiously  bitter  severity, 
augmenting  the  harshness  of  his  face. 

"We  were  saying,  messieurs,"  said  Catharine 
presently,  "that  we  have  not  this  morning  seen 
your  brother  in  this  hard  imprisonment  to  which 
your  lord  and  mine  have  condemned  you.  Is  he 
then  not  to  join  the  hunt  to-day  ?  " 

"  Madame,"  said  Egmont,  looking  up  from  a  favor 
he  was  dexterously  weaving  of  some  bits  of  riband 
which  little  Marguerite  had  given  him  and  bowing 
with  courtly  grace,  "if  it  please  your  majesty,  the 
prince  has  gone  to  mass  this  morning,  if  I  have  been 
rightly  informed." 

"Morbleu!"  cried  Diane  de  Poitiers,  lightly 
laughing,  "  who  would  have  expected  so  great  de 
votion  from  Monseigneur  of  Orange  !  It  was  but 
last  night,  moreover,  that  he  came  hither,  and  one 
would  have  said  he  had  chance  enough  for  masses 
in  Paris." 

"By  my  faith,  Madame  de  Valentinois,"  and 
Egmont  turned  gayly  to  Diane,  "I  doubt  greatly 
whether  the  prince  went  so  much  for  the  sake  of 
the  mass  as  for  the  chance  to  look  at  the  new  win 
dow  of  Maitre  Cousin,  that  so  he  could  gaze  un- 


63 

vexed  and  unhindered  at  the  charms  of  its  most 
glorious  figure/' 

Although  the  notorious  Diane  was  the  central 
personage  in  the  mythological  frescoes  and  can 
vasses  of  the  French  Renaissance,  and  had  been 
already  immortalized  as  the  goddess  Diana  in  the 
statue  of  Jean  Goujon,  it  was  still  matter  for  sur 
prise  and  protest,  even  in  the  dissolute  court  of 
Henri  II.,  when  her  figure  wholly  nude,  her  golden 
hair  encircled  by  a  blue  riband,  had  been  intro 
duced  into  the  scene  of  the  Last  Judgment  in  the 
new  window  of  the  apse  of  the  chapel  at  Vincennes. 
Hence  it  was  that  the  glance  of  bold  flattery  which 
accompanied  these  words  of  the  Flemish  grandee 
called  a  slight  flush  to  the  cheek  of  the  duchesse. 
Her  eyes  rested  upon  Egmont  with  a  curious  ex 
pression,  at  once  imperious  and  caressing,  and  she 
was  about  to  make  some  deprecating  remark  when 
from  the  wide-open  door  of  the  chateau  behind  the 
company  two  persons  advanced,  who  at  once  drew 
all  eyes  to  themselves,  being  no  less  than  the  heir- 
apparent  to  the  throne  of  France  and  his  young 
wife  of  a  year.  A  tall,  slender  boy  of  sixteen, 
Francois,  known  at  this  period  of  his  life  as  the 
king-dauphin,  was  of  a  graceful,  negligent  carriage, 
a  figure  rather  effeminate  than  manly,  and  a  coun 
tenance  pallid  and  heavy-eyed.  By  the  hand  he 
was  leading  his  wife,  Mary,  "  her  most  serene  little 
highness,"  the  Queen  of  Scotland,  whose  lustrous 
beauty  for  a  moment  startled  the  group  on  the  ter 
race  to  wondering  silence. 

As  she  approached  with  buoyant  step  Mary's 
fresh  rose  bloom  made  the  olive  Italian  face  of 
Catharine  de  Medici  appear  strangely  worn  and 
sallow.  Even  the  peerless  Diane  did  not  care  to 
put  her  still  powerful  charms  into  immediate  com 
parison  with  those  of  Mary  in  this  strong  light  of 
the  morning  and  so,  without  further  dalliance,  she 
galloped  on  toward  the  great  gate  of  the  donjon 


64 

tower.  A  gentleman  in  rich  but  plain  hunting  cos 
tume,  who  was  riding  in  at  the  moment,  instantly 
dismounted  and  kissed  her  hand  with  affectionate 
gallantry.  This  gentleman  was  no  less  than  the 
king  of  France,  Henri  of  Valois,  whom  for  twenty 
years  the  unscrupulous  duchesse  had  held  in  the 
chains  of  an  almost  insane  infatuation. 

Catharine  de  Medici  wisely  ignoring  the  further 
movements  of  the  formidable  Diane,  with  grace 
ful  dignity  proceeded  to  present  the  Duke  of  Alva 
and  the  Flemish  noblemen  to  Francois  and  Mary. 
The  latter  had  arrived  at  Vincennes  the  day  before, 
coming  directly  from  Villers-Cotterets,  where  they 
lived  in  the  retirement  prescribed  by  the  etiquette 
of  the  royal  family  for  the  king-  and  queen-dauphin 
until  called  to  the  throne.  On  occasions  of  special 
festivity  it  was,  however,  permitted  for  them  to  ap 
pear  at  court  and  the  approaching  marriage  of  their 
sister  to  the  king  of  Spain  had  at  this  time  given 
ample  warrant  for  their  presence. 

"You  are  not  of  the  hunting  party  to-day,  my 
son  ?  "  said  the  queen,  looking  with  evident  con 
cern  at  the  lack-lustre  face  of  Francois.  "  That  is 
deprivation  something  severe,  I  fear,  for  our  daugh 
ter."  The  last  words  were  spoken  with  a  negligent 
coldness  which  she  scarcely  attempted  to  conceal, 
and  an  indifferent  glance  at  the  young  wife,  whose 
ardent  love  for  all  sports  and  athletic  exercise  was 
well  known  in  the  Valois  family. 

"  Thanks,  madame,"  said  Mary  in  a  clear,  bell- 
like  voice,  in  which  a  thrill  of  conscious  power  and 
gladness  seemed  to  vibrate,  "  monsieur  is  slightly 
indisposed,  and  I  do  not  myself  find  the  hunt  amus 
ing  when  he  is  not  among  the  rest." 

As  Mary  spoke  thus  with  an  arch  and  roguish 
look  aside  into  the  face  of  her  boy-husband,  she 
was  so  wholly  bewitching  in  spite  of  a  faint  trace  of 
insolence  which  accompanied  her  words  that  even 
the  hard  face  of  Alva  relaxed  into  a  reluctant  smile. 


65 

Catharine,  however,  did  not  apparently  yield  to  the 
influence  of  her  daughter-in-law's  charms,  divining 
but  too  clearly,  with  the  sharpened  instinct  of  long 
and  bitter  experience,  that  full  soon  they  might  be 
arrayed  in  potent  rivalry  against  herself. 

Never  yet  in  the  twenty-five  years  which  had 
passed  since  as  a  girl  of  fifteen  Catharine  had  rid 
den  into  France,  the  bride  elect  of  the  Due  d'Or- 
leans,  had  she,  as  princess  or  as  queen,  been  per 
mitted  to  rule  in  her  rightful  realm. 

Completely  eclipsed  by  the  Duchesse  de  Valen- 
tinois,  to  whom  she  was  not  even  a  rival,  the  devo 
tion  of  Henri  to  his  mistress  had  never  yielded  for 
an  hour  to  the  subtle  and  persistent  attacks  of  the 
wife.  A  queen  without  a  following,  without  influ 
ence,  and  since  the  death  of  her  father-in-law, 
Francois  I.,  without  the  affection  even  of  her  imme 
diate  family  ;  with  the  deepest  sources  of  her  life 
embittered  by  the  ceaseless  and  terrible  struggle 
with  Diane,  whom  she  valiantly  professed  to  love, 
Catharine  could  only  bide  her  time.  But  a  slight 
knowledge  of  human  nature  would  suffice  to  fore 
tell  that  if  the  pent-up  bitterness  of  the  heart  should 
find  a  vent,  if  the  devouring  lust  for  power  of  the 
cruel  will  be  allowed  to  work  freely,  there  would 
follow  deeds  such  as  honest  men  fear  to  mention, 
deeds  conformable  to  the  Italian  craft  and  the 
wholly  unscrupulous  nature  of  the  woman. 

As  if  to  divert  the  eyes  of  the  cavaliers  from  the 
person  of  the  Queen  of  Scots  Catharine  exclaimed, 
looking  down  the  courtyard  : 

"Ah,  at  last  the  knight  faineant !  My  lord  of 
Orange  appears  to  have  finished  his  devotions  and 
to  prepare  for  the  day's  pastime." 

All  eyes  were  now  directed  to  the  figure  of  a 
cavalier  who  had  newly  appeared  upon  the  scene, 
and  who  had  stopped  for  a  moment  to  speak  with 
the  groom  who  was  leading  a  magnificent  black 
hunter  up  and  down. 

E 


66 

This  cavalier  now  turned,  perceiving  the  group  of 
ladies  upon  the  terrace,  and  hastened  to  greet  them. 
As  she  noted  his  approach  Catharine  said  in  a  low 
voice  to  the  first  lady  in  waiting : 

"Surely,  Montpensier,  this  is  the  goodliest  gen 
tleman  in  the  king's  company." 

The  lady  replied : 

"  Un  preux  chevalier,  ce  Prince  d' Orange,"  and 
her  face,  which  hitherto  had  borne  a  sad  and  anxious 
expression,  brightened  perceptibly. 

The  Prince  of  Orange,  as  he  now  hastened  to  do 
homage  to  Catharine,  was  seen  by  all  to  be  a  young 
man  of  marked  nobility  of  mien,  clean-limbed,  well- 
knit,  and  graceful.  Younger  by  many  years  than 
his  fellow-hostages,  slender  and  even  boyish,  with 
something  of  youthful  bloom  still  on  his  cheeks,  he 
was  imposing  withal  by  reason  of  the  impress  of 
profound  and  penetrating  intellect  dwelling  in  each 
line  of  his  face. 

As  he  removed  his  cap  of  black  velvet  the  sun 
shone  full  upon  the  bright  brown  hair,  cut  close  to 
the  head,  upon  the  clear  brune  skin,  the  dark  gentle 
eyes,  the  sensitive  well-chiseled  lips.  The  prince 
was  dressed  in  a  black  velvet  doublet  and  trunk 
hose  and  black  silk  stockings  and  wore  no  decora 
tions  save  the  insignia  of  the  Fleece  upon  his  breast, 
while  his  black  cap  was  without  panache  or  other 
decoration.  In  his  left  hand  he  chanced  to  be  car 
rying  a  single  white  rose.  With  the  right  hand,  as 
he  dropped  upon  one  knee,  he  lifted  the  hand  of  the 
French  queen  to  his  lips  ;  then  rising,  responded 
with  a  manner  of  singular  and  captivating  charm  to 
the  salutations  which  were  rained  upon  him  from 
the  brilliant  group  of  lords  and  ladies. 

The  face  of  the  prince  which  had  at  first  worn  a 
shade  of  melancholy,  natural  in  view  of  the  recent 
death  of  his  young  wife  and  itself  a  distinction  in 
that  company,  was  transformed  as  he  entered  into 
their  airy  converse,  and  he  displayed  in  high  degree 


67 

the  free  and  debonair  complaisance  of  the  accom 
plished  courtier,  the  facile  ease  of  the  man  who 
"carries  a  talisman  under  his  tongue."  Gay  and 
gracious,  proud  yet  delicately  deferential,  the  young 
knight,  at  this  time  the  prime  favorite  of  fortune, 
seemed  to  possess  and  unconsciously  to  exert  that 
mysterious  magic  of  personal  ascendency  to  which 
all  who  met  him  irresistibly  yielded. 

Turning  to  the  Duke  of  Alva  the  Duchesse  de 
Montpensier  remarked  aside  : 

"  I  have  not  seen  his  grace  of  Orange  before.  Is 
it  true  that  it  is  he  whom  the  Emperor  Charles 
brought  up  as  his  own  son  ?  " 

"The  same,  madame,"  was  the  brief  reply. 

"  The  emperor  has  shown  himself  a  judge  of 
men,"  rejoined  the  lady.  "And  he,  like  Philip,  is 
a  widower,  n'est-ce  pas?  " 

"Yes,  madame." 

"  A  pity  such  a  young  and  gallant  prince  could  not 
have  been  the  bridegroom  for  our  Lady  Isabella," 
said  the  duchesse  regretfully,  "  rather  than  his  fos 
ter-brother,  his  majesty  of  Spain,  whom,  saving  your 
presence,  monsieur  le  Due,  we  French  women  con 
sider  a  somewhat  sombre  and  icy  gentleman  and  a 
melancholy  husband  for  our  pretty  little  princess." 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  which  indeed  the 
general  did  not  seem  disposed  to  give,  the  duchesse 
turned  again  to  hear  what  the  queen-dauphin  and 
her  ladies  were  saying  to  the  prince. 

"  Then  after  all  it  was  not  the  mass  which  kept 
monsieur  ?  " 

"  No,  madame,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  I  cannot  claim 
to  have  visited  the  chapel  this  morning." 

"  Ah,  then  monsieur  has  been  at  some  mysterious 
tryst  with  one  of  our  demoiselles  !  And  it  is  from 
some  fair  hand  that  he  has  received  the  lovely  rose 
he  guards  so  carefully.  Confess  now,  and  tell  us 
the  name  of  the  fortunate  lady  !  " 

For  answer  the  prince  deliberately  proceeded  to 


68 

fasten  the  flower  with  a  small  jeweled  brooch  into 
his  cap,  which  he  then  waved  to  the  vivacious 
maiden  with  a  gesture  of  gallant  grace,  but  without 
a  word. 

"  Oh,  for  shame,  Adelaide,"  cried  the  Queen  of 
Scots  to  her  young  court  lady.  "Are  you  then 
ignorant  of  flower-language  ?  Have  you  forgotten 
that  the  rose  is  the  symbol  for  silence  ?  " 

A  shrill  musical  blast  upon  a  silver  horn  rang  at 
that  moment  upon  their  ears.  The  king  galloped 
up  to  the  terrace  with  a  courteous  greeting  to  the 
ladies  and  a  call  to  horse  to  the  gentlemen. 

"  What  then  really  is  the  mystery  of  your  white 
rose,  Orange  ?  " 

It  was  Egmont  who  asked  the  question  half  an 
hour  later  as  the  two  rode  side  by  side  through  the 
deep  shade  of  the  forest,  skirting  the  Lac  Dumesnil. 
Despite  the  nearly  dozen  years  disparity  in  their 
ages  these  rival  Flemish  princes  were  close  friends 
and  comrades-at-arms. 

"  By  our  Lady,  Egmont,  it  is  in  truth  a  mystery," 
returned  Orange,  whose  face  had  now  won  back 
the  thoughtful  expression  habitual  to  it  in  repose. 
"  It  may  even  be  that  you  can  give  me  some  en 
lightenment." 

"  Gladly  will  I  if  I  may  ;  say  on,"  said  Egmont. 

"  At  the  time  when  you  supposed  me  to  have 
gone  to  mass,"  said  the  prince,  "I  had,  in  fact, 
withdrawn  rather  for  the  chance  to  stroll  in  the 
peace  of  this  rare  morning  through  the  garden 
walks  and  as  far  as  might  be  from  the  shadow  of 
yon  gloomy  chateau,  which,  I  confess,  seems  to  me 
more  like  a  prison  than  a  palace.  I  turned  down  a 
long,  shaded  lane,  between  the  high,  clipped 
hedges  of  yew  which  rose  above  my  head,  and  was 
pacing  forward,  my  eyes,  I  believe,  downcast,  my 
thoughts  certainly  far  away  in  Breda  with  my  little 
motherless  children,  when  I  caught  sight  of  a  fig- 


ure  at  some  distance  before  me  which  startled  my 
attention.  Down  the  long  green  lane,  among  the 
rows  of  the  white  lilies  growing  tall  below  the 
hedge,  stood  the  form  of  a  child,  or  rather,  perhaps, 
I  should  say  of  a  very  young  maid,  as  pure  and  as 
virginal  as  the  lilies.  She  was  clothed  from  head 
to  foot  in  a  shining  white  garment,  straight  and 
flowing,  with  a  veil  of  lightest  gauze  surrounding 
her  like  a  pale  nimbus.  Her  head  was  lifted,  the 
hair  which  showed  about  her  temples  was  of  the 
color  of  gold,  her  face  was,  as  it  were,  transparent 
and  of  a  most  affecting  whiteness,  and  her  eyes, 
blue  and  innocent  as  an  angel's,  were  lifted,  look 
ing  up  beyond  the  dark  line  of  the  yews,  and  from 
them  down  her  cheeks  tears  were  fairly  streaming. 
I  think  she  did  not  know  that  she  thus  wept ;  I 
perceived  that  she  had  not  heard  my  step  ap? 
proaching.  However,  I  could  not  choose  but  go  on. 
Following  her  eyes  I  gained  this  much,  that  it  was 
the  flight  of  a  lark  which  was  soaring  far  up  into 
the  sky  which  she  was  so  intently  watching. 

"  As  I  approached  her  this  creature,  more  like  a 
vision  than  a  maiden  of  flesh  and  blood,  seeing  me, 
dashed  the  tears  off  her  face  with  a  swift  motion 
and  fixed  upon  me  the  gaze  of  her  large,  blue 
eyes,  with  a  look  the  saddest  yet  the  most  search 
ing  that  I  have  ever  known. 

"  Egmont,"  and  the  prince  showed  in  the  strong 
emphasis  and  the  seriousness  of  his  tone  that  he 
had  been  profoundly  moved,  "if  you  have  ever 
seen  a  child  weep,  not  from  childish  vexation,  from 
fear  or  from  pain,  but  from  deep,  unspoken  sorrow, 
you  will  know  the  strange  pang  with  which  I  met 
this  look.  It  was  a  look  as  of  an  angel  shut  out  of 
heaven  who  will  not  murmur  nor  upbraid  ;  a  look 
of  utter,  hopeless,  but  most  patient  sorrow,  and  on 
the  face  of  a  child  who  ought  to  know  nothing  of 
life  yet  but  its  joy  and  sunshine." 

"  Did  you  speak  to  her  ?  "  asked  the  count. 


70 

"  I  asked  her,  in  good  sooth,  if  I  might  serve  or 
help  her  and  pledged  myself  so  to  do  in  faith  and 
honor  if  she  would  tell  me  her  trouble.  At  first  she 
made  no  answer.  Near  her  now,  I  had  a  chance 
to  note  the  fineness  of  her  person,  the  grace  of  her 
bearing,  the  traces  of  sore  illness  which  had  left 
her  face  so  sadly  wan  and  transparent,  the  fact 
that  on  her  breast  she  wore  a  large  cross  of  rarely 
fine  workmanship,  and  that  it  was  a  clasp  of  Bour 
bon  lilies  in  gold  which  fastened  her  girdle." 

"  All  these  signs  bid  fair  to  tell  a  tale  of  passing 
significance." 

"  Surely.  There  was  much  to  arouse  a  peculiar 
curiosity  and  reverence,  for  if  ever  I  saw  a  holy 
and  yet  most  unhappy  child  it  was  she.  When  I 
pressed  her  to  speak  she  said  at  last,  with  no  con 
fusion,  nor  bashfulness,  as  might  have  been  with 
her  years,  that  her  troubles  could  not  be  told  but 
to  increase  them,  and  that  she  must  learn  silence, 
and  so  begged  me  to  excuse  her  and  let  her  go  her 
way.  1  stood  aside  then,  and  passing  me  she 
smiled,  and  by  my  faith  her  smile  did  move  me  yet 
more  deeply  than  her  tears,  so  forlorn  and  so  sweet 
was  it.  She  had  in  her  hand  two  or  three  of  these 
June  roses,  and  after  she  had  passed  me  she 
stepped  back  and  quite  timidly,  and  yet  in  a  some 
thing  stately  fashion,  bestowed  this  one  upon  me, 
but  did  not  speak.  Then  said  I,  '  Farewell,  little 
Saint  Silence,'  and  waved  my  hand,  the  rose  in  it, 
whereupon  she  said  softly,  'Au  revoir,  monsieur,' 
and  so  sped  swiftly  and  gliding  like  a  shining 
shadow  down  the  alley." 

"In  truth  a  very  curious  history,"  said  Egmont 
as  the  prince  concluded  his  narration,  and  they  rode 
on  for  a  little  space  in  silence.  Then  presently  he 
added  : 

"The  Due  de  Montpensier  is  riding  toward  us; 
I  know  him  by  his  height  and  by  his  white  horse. 
What  say  you,  shall  1  inquire  of  him  concerning 


71 

this  mysterious  little  maid  ?  He  knows  all  the  fam 
ilies  who  consort  with  the  court  and  could  surely 
give  us  cognizance.  I  am  fain  to  think  that  this 
seemingly  forsaken  child,  by  the  lilies  at  her  belt 
and  the  bearing  you  describe,  may  even  be  a  prin 
cess  of  the  blood.  What  say  you,  shall  we  inquire 
cf  Montpensier  ?  " 

"Nay,  Lamoral,"  said  Orange  quickly,  "least 
of  all  of  him.  The  man  is  little  to  my  mind. 
Something  harsh,  metallic,  and  cruel,  even  in  his 
most  flattering  words  and  ways,  grates  upon  my 
spirit.  Ask  nothing  of  him  nor  of  any  man.  In 
the  end  1  choose  rather  to  keep  the  vision  in  its 
present  semblance  in  my  memory.  What  can  it 
profit  to  know  more  concerning  it  ?  " 

"  That  shall  be  as  you  say,"  said  his  friend,  and 
the  Due  de  Montpensier  joining  them  they  put 
their  horses  to  the  gallop,  making  speed  to  join  the 
royal  party. 

When  the  sun  of  that  June  day  was  sinking  in 
the  west,  the  prince  rode  homeward  from  the  hunt, 
and  beside  him  and  alone  in  the  darkening  glades 
of  the  forest  rode  the  king  of  France.  Then  and 
there  in  free  and  lordly  confidence  his  majesty  dis 
coursed  to  the  young  prince,  his  guest  and  hostage, 
on  the  all-controlling  purpose  for  which  himself  and 
the  king  of  Spain  had  closed  their  long  warfare.  It 
was  then  that  the  prince  heard  proposed  as  a  prac 
tical  measure,  and  one  shortly  to  be  executed  in 
his  own  country,  that  fateful  dogma  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  "  To  exterminate  heresy  it  is  only  necessary  to 
exterminate  heretics." 

With  ardor  Henri  dwelt  upon  the  searching  work 
already  begun  in  Spain  by  the  first  auto-da-fe  of 
Valladolid  a  few  weeks  previously  and  which  to  his 
sure  knowledge  his  royal  son  and  brother  Philip 
would  now  prosecute  without  fear  or  favor  until 
the  "  accursed  vermin  "  were  purged  from  the  land 


72 

forever.  The  same  measures  were  to  be  employed 
in  the  Netherlands  by  means  of  the  magnificent 
machinery  of  the  Inquisition  set  in  motion  and  sus 
tained  by  the  Spanish  army  still  quartered  there. 
In  his  own  realm  the  king  admitted  the  problem 
was  a  more  difficult  one,  since  some  of  the  chief 
men  in  his  kingdom  and  even  some  princes  of  the 
blood  had  declared  for  the  new  religion.  But  "he 
hoped  by  the  grace  of  God  and  the  good  under 
standing  that  he  had  with  his  new  son,  the  king  of 
Spain,  that  he  would  soon  master  them." 

Thus  his  Very  Christian  Majesty,  taking  for 
granted  in  hearty  and  undoubted  confidence  that 
this  right  royal  plot  was  already  in  its  general  out 
line  familiar  to  a  prince  who  was  the  favorite  of 
the  father  of  Philip,  and  was  the  most  powerful 
Catholic  prince  of  the  Low  Countries. 

Neither  by  word  nor  look,  breath  nor  motion,  did 
the  prince  betray  the  consternation  with  which  he 
was  filled  by  the  revelation  of  a  plot  wholly  un 
dreamed  of  by  him  until  that  hour. 

Perchance  the  king  observed  that  his  companion 
grew  somewhat  silent  and  did  not  discuss  with  en 
thusiasm  the  details  of  that  "excellent  purpose," 
which  was  presently  to  convulse  Europe  from  one 
end  to  the  other.  Certain,  however,  is  it  that  not 
for  one  moment  did  his  majesty  of  France  dream 
that  the  man  beside  him  in  his  grave,  attentive 
courtesy,  being  "deeply  moved  with  pity  for  all 
the  worthy  people  who  were  thus  devoted  to 
slaughter,  and  for  the  country  to  which  he  owed  so 
much,  wherein  they  designed  to  introduce  an  In 
quisition  worse  and  more  cruel  than  that  of  Spain," 
in  that  brief  hour  received  the  impulse  which, 
slowly  maturing,  was  destined  to  make  of  him  in 
after  years  the  champion  of  his  people  and  of  the 
spiritual  liberties  of  all  Christendom. 

Soon  king  and  prince  with  all  the  brilliant  caval« 
cade  returning  from  the  forest,  mingled  in  a  rout  of 


73 

royalty  and  nobility  in  the  salon  of  the  gloomy 
chateau  and  questions  of  kingcraft  were  for  the  time 
apparently  forgotten. 

A  month  from  that  day  the  hostages  had  returned 
to  their  own  country  ;  Catharine  de  Medici  no  lon 
ger  queen,  but  queen-mother,  had  become  the 
mother-in-law  of  Philip  of  Spain  ;  Diane  de  Poitiers, 
whose  proud  device  had  been,  "I  have  conquered 
the  All-conqueror,"  had  been  scornfully  dismissed 
from  the  court  of  France  ;  Frangois  of  Valois  and 
his  young  Scottish  wife  were  king  and  queen  of 
France,  for  a  greater  than  Diane  had  conquered 
and  Henri  II.  was  dead,  dead  of  a  chance  sword- 
thrust  in  a  tournament. 

Meanwhile  and  many  days  ere  this,  torn  again 
from  a  mother's  yearning  love,  the  lonely  child- 
abbess,  the  "little  Saint  Silence"  had  returned 
to  her  nuns  of  Jouarre. 


IX 

THE  WHITE  ABBESS 

AGAIN  the  scene  is  the  cloister  garth  at  the 
Abbey  of  Jouarre,  and  on  a  summer  after 
noon  in  the  year  1565,  we  find  the  three 
maidens,  Charlotte  de  Bourbon,  and  with  her  the 
two  Jeannes,  sitting  as  in  an  earlier  time,  upon  the 
old  stone  seat  of  Our  Lady's  Arbor. 

The  arbor  is  unchanged.  The  leaves  of  laurel 
and  palm  are  still  lustrous  in  the  sunlight  and  give 
their  sombre,  enclosing  shade  ;  the  little  Virgin  in 
the  center  of  the  circle  is  stony  and  prim  as  of  old  ; 
the  massive  seat  still  surrounds  the  figure  un 
altered  save  for  the  gradual  encroachment  over 
its  surface  of  the  fine  gray  lichens.  But  while  the 
scene  remains  the  same,  the  three  who  again  en 
liven  its  cold  severity  are  no  longer  the  chattering 
insouciante  little  girls  who  once  came  hither,  but 
three  full-grown  maidens. 

The  six  years  which  have  elapsed  have  witnessed 
the  death  of  Francois  II.  His  fourteen-year-old 
brother,  Charles  IX.,  is  now  king  of  France,  and, 
as  regent  of  France,  Catharine  de  Medici  has  the 
long-coveted  power  at  last  in  her  hands.  The  first 
religious  war  has  been  fought  to  a  close  and  the 
peace  of  Amboise  has  run  through  two  years  of  its 
fitful  and  uneasy  course. 

The  Abbess  of  Jouarre  at  eighteen  is  tall  and  fair 
and  stately,  clothed  to-day  according  to  the  habit 
which  she  adopted  on  first  assuming  her  office, 
wholly  in  white.  Her  robe  and  coif,  veil,  and 
ornaments  are  all  of  the  prescribed  monastic  cut 
and  character,  but  like  the  Cistercians,  she  prefers 
74 


75 

white  to  black,  and  this  preference  has  met  with 
no  opposition  in  the  convent,  it  being  obviously 
suited  to  her  years,  and  a  distinction  which  her 
princely  rank  suggests.  As  the  young  abbess 
bends  over  her  embroidery  frame  her  face  and 
figure  in  their  bloom  and  symmetry  show  that  the 
years  have  brought  reconcilement  and  surcease  of 
the  agonies  to  which  her  childhood  was  subject. 
No  longer  held  under  strict  discipline  and  kept  in 
the  narrow  and  rigid  limits  of  those  early  years, 
firmness,  health,  and  elastic  grace  have  succeeded 
to  the  earlier  piteous  pallor  and  weakness.  Never 
theless,  the  expression  of  the  Bourbon  princess  is 
characterized  by  a  peculiar  languor,  the  look  of  one 
who  does  not  despair,  but  who  no  longer  hopes,  a 
look  which  gives  a  mysterious  and  pathetic  charm 
to  her  youthful  beauty. 

Bending  over  the  same  frame,  her  head  almost 
touching  that  of  Charlotte,  is  Jeannette,  clad  now, 
as  is  also  Jeanne  de  Mousson,  in  the  full  conven 
tual  robes  of  the  order,  the  soft,  clinging  black 
garments,  the  clear  white  linen  caps,  from  which 
flow  the  black  veils,  concealing  their  youthful  grace 
of  outline.  But  despite  this  melancholy  habit,  the 
two  Jeanneshave  little  of  the  aspect  of  cold,  super 
imposed  quietude  of  the  conventional  nun,  but  a 
wholesome,  sunny  contentment.  Jeannette  is  still 
small,  even  insignificant  in  stature,  and  her  face  is 
simple,  honest,  and  affectionate  as  ever.  Jeanne 
de  Mousson,  who  paces  slowly  back  and  forth  read 
ing  aloud  from  a  small  missal,  is  as  tall  as  Charlotte, 
and  has  a  figure  which  even  under  its  jealously 
concealing  garments  can  be  seen  to  be  instinct  with 
spirit  and  lissome  energy.  Her  clear,  dark  skin  has 
not,  for  all  the  years  of  her  convent  life,  wholly  lost 
its  vivid  color ;  her  dark  eyes  flash  with  their  old 
luster  and  her  lips  have  still  thfir  proud,  impetuous 
curves. 

Old  Radegonde  could  now  be  seen  approaching 


76 

the  arbor  as  if  on  an  errand  of  great  importance. 
Her  brown,  hardy  face  was  but  a  trifle  more 
wrinkled  by  the  six  years  which  had  elapsed  since 
the  consecration  as  Abbess  of  Jouarre  of  her  adored 
princess. 

It  had  been  her  loving  devotion  alone  which  had 
brought  the  exhausted  child  through  the  fierce 
fever  which  had  followed  that  ordeal.  This  sea 
son  of  suffering  had  knit  the  heart  of  the  royal 
child  to  the  heart  of  the  humble  old  woman  for 
ever. 

As  she  crossed  the  cloister  Radegonde  was  inter 
cepted  by  the  sub-prioress,  whose  slender  figure 
had  been  noiselessly  passing  and  repassing  beyond 
the  stone  pillars  for  the  past  half-hour  as  if  on 
guard.  To  her  keen  questioning,  Radegonde  but 
replied : 

"I  will  tell  you  presently,  Sister  Cecile.  My 
word  is  first  of  all  for  my  lady." 

Radegonde's  head  now  appearing  in  the  nar 
row  gap  between  the  laurel  bushes  which  served 
as  entrance  to  the  place,  Charlotte  de  Bourbon 
looked  up  from  the  parti-colored  tapestry  upon 
which  her  fingers  were  employed,  and  smilingly 
asked  a  quiet  question  : 

"  What  is  it,  Radegonde  ?  " 

"  Madame,  her  majesty  of  Navarre,  Madame 
Jeanne  d'Albret,  has  at  this  moment  arrived  at 
Jouarre  with  a  small  escort,  and  awaits  your  high 
ness  even  now  in  the  hall." 

A  bright  color  rushed  to  Charlotte's  cheeks  and 
an  exclamation  of  joy  broke  from  her  lips,  which 
was  echoed  with  delight  by  Jeanne  de  Mousson. 

Charlotte  dropped  her  embroidery  frame  into 
Jeannette's  lap,  and  taking  the  young  Bearnaise 
by  the  hand,  the  two  hastened  from  the  place  with 
Radegonde,  Cecile  Crue  furtively  following  afar 
off.  A  moment  later  they  entered  the  beautiful 
hall  of  the  abbess  and  were  clasped  in  the  warm 


77 

motherly  embrace  of  the  Queen  of  Navarre,  who 
stood  there  awaiting  them  with  two  ladies,  who  had 
attended  her  on  her  journey  hither. 

Still  bearing  the  potent  charm  of  her  young 
womanhood,  despite  the  perils  and  adversities  of  her 
stormy  life,  the  royal  matron  seemed  by  her  pres 
ence  to  exert  instantaneously  upon  these  mother 
less  and  lonely  girls  a  strangely  energizing  in 
fluence.  Noble  in  person  and  in  dress  and  of  an 
unconscious  majesty  of  demeanor,  the  beauty  of 
the  daughter  of  Marguerite  de  Valois  was  far  be 
yond  that  of  the  conventional,  artful  beauties  of 
her  day  ;  hers  was  a  spirituelle,  eloquent  sweet 
ness,  the  clear  light  of  a  puissant  spirit  and  an  in 
vincible  heart.  Power,  confidence,  and  freedom 
seemed  to  flow  from  her  and  animate  every  one  in 
her  presence. 

Jeanne  de  Mousson  showed  the  influence  of  the 
queen,  her  godmother,  yet  more  notably  than  did 
the  young  abbess.  She  was  transformed  from  the 
grave  monastic  demureness  which  had  character 
ized  her  but  now  as  she  had  paced  the  sober  little 
arbor.  Her  dark  eyes  fairly  flamed  with  joy,  her 
cheeks  glowed  with  excitement,  she  held  herself 
with  new  and  spirited  grace,  and  it  was  not  diffi 
cult  to  see  in  her  a  reflection  of  the  heroic  temper 
and  brilliant  leadership  of  that  queen  who  had  been 
called  through  all  her  girlhood,  "the  darling  of 
kings." 

But  the  time  was  short  and  much  must  be  said 
between  her  majesty  and  the  Abbess  of  Jouarre 
alone.  With  quick  perception,  the  young  Bear- 
naise  proposed  that  she  should  accompany  the 
ladies-in-waiting  to  the  guest  house  and  establish 
them  there  in  the  apartments  set  aside  for  guests 
of  their  degree,  while  the  young  sup'erieure  should 
enjoy  a  tete-a-te'te  with  the  queen. 

The  two  were  now  accordingly  left  alone  while 
old  Radegonde  took  her  place  outside  the  door  of 


78 

the  great  hall  to  keep  watch  and  ward  over  the 
privacy  of  her  beloved  lady.  The  sub-prioress  had 
disappeared. 

The  sumptuous  room  was  unchanged  since  the 
days  of  Louise  de  Long-Vic.  The  dim  old  picture 
of  Saint  Theodehilde  still  looked  down  from  the 
great  carved  chimney  ;  the  Cordova  leather  of  the 
walls  gleamed  richly  in  the  afternoon  light  falling 
through  the  deep-set  windows ;  the  brave  array  of 
plate  upon  the  great  buffet  alone  had  suffered  loss, 
much  of  it  belonging  to  Madame  de  Long-Vic,  who 
had  removed  it  with  her  when  she  went  to  the 
chateau  which  had  become  her  residence. 

Jeanne  d'Albret  now,  taking  Charlotte's  hand 
in  hers,  drew  her  to  a  seat  in  the  embrasure  of  one 
of  the  high  lancet  windows. 

"Ah,  my  little  cousin,"  she  cried  in  her  full, 
resonant  voice,  "  how  lovely  you  have  grown  in 
these  four  years  since  I  have  looked  upon  your 
face  !  " 

They  spoke  long  and  tenderly  then  of  the  death 
of  Charlotte's  mother,  which  had  taken  place  four 
years  previously.  The  lonely  girl  had  been  sum 
moned  to  her  mother's  death-bed  only  in  time  to 
receive  her  parting  words  and  her  last  fervent 
prayer  for  herself. 

With  uncontrollable  emotion  Charlotte  cried  to 
her  friend  : 

"Oh,  dear  madame,  can  you,  can  any  one,  tell 
me  why  it  was  that  I  was  never  permitted  to  be 
alone  and  at  liberty  with  my  dearest  mother,  never 
once  in  all  those  years  ?  I  know  that  she  loved 
me."  And  with  that  sobs  made  speech  impossible. 

"  Do  you  not  know,  then,  that  your  mother  for 
many  years  before  her  death  was  Huguenot  ?  " 
Jeanne  d'Albret  asked,  looking  earnestly  into 
Charlotte's  face,  which  changed  swiftly  as  she  lis 
tened.  These  were  bold  words. 

A  slight,  hardly  perceptible  tremor,  as  of  dismay, 


79 

passed  over  the  painted  figure  of  the  first  abbess 
of  Jouarre  in  its  frame  above  the  chimney. 

"No,  madame,"  replied  the  young  girl.  "I 
knew  that  she  was  wholly  without  the  desire  to 
persecute  the  Huguenots  which  animates  my  father. 
That  she  was  herself  Protestant  I  never  knew.  If 
this  be  so  it  explains  many  mysteries  !  " 

"  It  explains,  perchance,  even  more  than  you 
think,  my  little  Charlotte.  It  explains  the  undue 
haste  with  which  your  investiture  with  your  office 
of  abbess  was  precipitated.  Your  father  feared 
the  influence  of  your  mother  upon  your  Catho 
licity  and  sought,  ere  it  was  too  late,  to  bind  you 
by  irrevocable  vows  to  fulfill  his  purpose." 

Charlotte  clasped  her  hands  with  a  strangely 
pathetic  gesture  of  hopeless  submission. 

"  Ah,  madame,"  she  breathed,  as  if  her  voice 
was  smothered  by  her  sense  of  wrong,  "  I  have 
not  been  fairly  dealt  by  !  " 

"  Most  unfairly  and  cruelly  have  you  been  dealt 
by,  to  my  sure  knowledge  !  "  said  the  queen,  the 
sense  of  outraged  justice  giving  her  face  a  noble 
sternness.  "  I  speak  thus  plainly  because  I  know 
how  your  faithful  and  loving  heart  has  been  torn 
by  questions  concerning  the  seeming  neglect  and 
coldness  of  your  mother.  Ah,  my  child,  even  you 
will  never  know,  no  one  not  a  mother  can  dream, 
of  the  agonies  which  the  noble  Jacqueline  suffered 
concerning  you,  and  which  she  could  never  permit 
herself  even  to  hint  to  you,  since  the  result  could 
only  add  to  the  sorrows  and  rigors  of  your  lot." 

"Even  when  I  was  at  court,"  said  Charlotte, 
her  tears  checked,  her  face  still  and  white  as  if  cut 
from  marble,  "we  were  kept  apart,  or  watched 
while  we  were  together,  and  many  a  time  I  have 
gone  away  by  myself  alone  to  hide  the  tears  which 
I  could  not  restrain  for  longing  and  the  crying  out 
of  my  heart  for  the  tenderness  and  confidence 
which  even  in  her  presence  were  denied  me." 


8o 

"  Oh,  Charlotte,  my  little-  maid,  the  blight  and 
burden  of  this  cruel  time  have  fallen  over-heavily 
on  your  young  years  !  God  help  us,  for  I  greatly 
fear  me  there  is  worse  yet  to  come." 

"  Can  there  be  worse  for  me,  madame  ?  I  think 
I  have  nothing  left  to  fear,"  and  again  Charlotte's 
sweet  lips  trembled. 

"For  you,  it  may  not  be.  I  cannot  tell,  yet 
even  in  this  quiet  convent  there  may  be  forces  at 
work  of  which  you  do  not  dream." 

As  she  spoke  these  words  the  Queen  of  Navarre 
chanced  to  lift  her  eyes  to  the  ancient  painting 
above  the  chimney.  Could  it  be  that  it  shook  ? 
Was  the  old  first  abbess  of  Jouarre,  in  her  straight 
black  robes,  coming  down  out  of  her  frame  to  fulfill 
the  words  ?  Absurd  and  impossible,  Jeanne  d'Al- 
bret  thought,  and  turned  again  to  the  young,  white- 
robed  living  abbess  before  her,  whose  blue  eyes 
were  fixed  with  wondering  intentness  upon  her 
face. 

"  Madame,  I  hear  that  you  have  yourself  joined 
the  Huguenots,  and  that  you  do  not  permit  now 
the  celebration  of  the  mass  in  Beam.  Is  that 
true  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma  mie,  it  is  quite  true,"  and  the  queen 
smiled  at  the  dread  and  anxiety  plainly  to  be  read 
in  Charlotte's  face. 

"  And  now  that  monsieur  my  cousin  is  dead, 
can  you  alone  sustain  so  great  a  change  ?  " 

Jeanne  d'Albret  cast  about  her  for  an  answer 
which  should  be  true  and  which  yet  should  not 
convey  the  whole  truth  to  the  mind  of  Charlotte 
For  Antoine  de  Bourbon,  a  man  faithless  even  for 
that  faithless  age,  had  been  recreant  to  every 
pledge  either  to  the  new  religion  or  the  old,  child 
ish  in  his  fickleness,  the  sport  of  all  parties. 

"We  will  do  our  best,  little  cousin,"  she  said 
with  a  tinge  of  sadness  in  her  look,  which  was  yet 
full  of  conscious  power.  "  But  we  wrestle  in  our 


8i 

little  realm  against  masterful  foes.  The  powers  of 
Rome  and  of  Spain  have  both  of  late  been  arrayed 
fiercely  against  us." 

"  And  you  fear  not  to  set  yourself  against  such 
mighty  odds  ?  "  cried  Charlotte,  gazing  with 
breathless  admiration  at  the  queen.  "  You  alone, 
of  all  women  of  France,  should  have  your  name 
written  forever  with  that  of  Jeanne  d'Arc.  Like 
her,  you  are  high-souled  and  fearless  ;  like  her, 
you  have  the  soul  of  a  soldier  in  the  body  of  a  fair 
and  delicate  woman,"  and  Charlotte  covered  the 
beautiful  hand  of  Jeanne  d'Albret  with  kisses. 
"  But,  is  it  true  that  you  have  defied  his  holiness, 
Pope  Gregory,  as  men  say  ?  " 

"  Not  quite  that,  I  hope.  So  at  least  I  have  not 
purposed  ;  but  his  holiness  has  been  greatly  ag 
grieved  at  the  measures  which  I  have  taken  in 
Beam,  and  has  proposed  to  enforce  obedience 
among  my  subjects  by  means  of  the  Inquisition. 
Think  you  I  would  permit  that  atrocious  tyranny 
among  my  leal  and  true  people  ?  "  and  the  eyes  of 
the  queen  flashed  her  indignant  protest. 

"  I  made  answer  to  Cardinal  d'Armagnac  :  ^re 
ceive  here  no  legate  at  the  price  it  has  cost  France. 
I  acknowledge  over  me  in  Beam  God  only,  to  whom  I 
shall  render  account  of  the  people  he  has  committed 
to  my  care.  I  shall  do  nothing  in  my  kingdom  by 
force.  There  shall  be  neither  death  nor  imprisonment 
nor  condemnation,  which  are  the  nerves  of  force.'1 
That  letter,  Charlotte,  which  God  gave  me,  a  weak 
woman,  the  heart  to  write,  has  been  printed  and 
scattered  throughout  the  land,  by  whom  I  know 
not.  Thank  God,  I  hear  that  the  hearts  of  his 
fainting  saints  have  been  cheered  by  it.  But  the 
consequences  which  followed  its  reception  by  the 
Holy  Father  bade  fair  to  be  full  serious.  You  have, 
even  here,  doubtless  heard  of  the  bull  against  me  ?  " 

1  In  this  volume  the  authentic  original  utterances  of  historic  persons  are 
indicated  by  Italics. 


82 

"  Yes,  truly.  I  heard  it  with  utmost  dread  and 
amazement." 

"  I  was  cited  to  appear  before  the  holy  tribunal 
of  the  Inquisition  at  Rome  itself  to  clear  myself,  if 
I  could,  from  the  stain  of  heresy." 

"  But  you  did  not  go  ?  " 

"Nay,  indeed  I  went  not,"  and  Jeanne  d'Albret 
laughed  frankly.  "  The  queen-mother  this  time 
espoused  my  side  of  the  quarrel.  It  suits  not  the 
majesty  of  France  to  permit  his  holiness  to  carry 
matters  with  too  high  a  hand,  and  particularly  to 
order  about  those  of  the  blood  royal.  So  Gregory 
was  fain  to  give  way,  and  Catharine  stood  me  in 
good  stead  for  this  time,  whatever  have  been  our 
troubles  in  the  past,  or  may  be  in  the  future." 

"  I  know  it  is  said  of  her  majesty,"  said  Char 
lotte,  "  that  she  is  neither  friend  to  any  person  nor 
foe  to  any,  save  for  her  own  ends." 

"  That  is  said  but  too  truly,  I  fear  me,"  was  the 
reply.  "  But  no  sooner,  my  Charlotte,  was  Rome 
silenced  than  his  majesty  of  Spain  began  to  proceed 
against  me  after  his  own  peculiar  fashion.  In  good 
sooth,  I  think  not  the  Holy  Father  himself  so  good 
a  Catholic  as  my  neighbor  Philip  !  "  Upon  which 
they  both  laughed  lightly. 

Madame  d'Albret  proceeded  to  recount  her  thrill 
ing  escape  from  the  plot  of  Philip  to  abduct  herself 
and  her  two  children  from  their  castle  at  Pau  and 
carry  them  by  a  force  of  armed  men  into  Spain, 
there  to  come  before  the  Inquisition.  From  this 
murderous  plot  the  Queen  of  Navarre  had  been 
saved  only  by  the  timely  warning  sent  by  Philip's 
wife,  Isabella  of  Valois. 

"  So  this  time,  ma  mie,"  she  concluded  her  nar 
rative,  "  we  are  safe  ;  but  it  is  only  for  a  time,  for 
all  signs  portend  that  sterner  scenes  are  before  us 
than  any  we  have  known." 

"But  why  say  you  so,  chlre  cousine?"  asked 
Charlotte.  "  Surely  the  land  of  France  is  now  in 


83 

a  state  of  rest.  1  have  heard-  much  of  this  royal 
progress  which  the  king  and  the  queen-mother  are 
making  through  the  southern  lands.  That,  at  least, 
would  seem  to  befit  a  time  of  peace." 

"Ah,  but,  my  child,  wheresoever  they  go  they 
carry  with  them  new  and  harsher  oppression  for 
the  new  religion,"  returned  the  queen  earnestly. 
"They  profess  to  protect  it,  but  to  lure  our  peo 
ple  into  a  deadly  security,  while  in  reality  every 
measure  which  they  dare  they  take  against  us. 
Last  of  all,  and  most  ominous,  we  have  had  this 
illustrious  conference  at  Bayonne,  hardly  yet  con 
cluded." 

"  Were  you  at  Bayonne,  madame  ?  " 

"  Nay,  not  I,  Charlotte,  but  my  brave  boy,  my 
Henri,  was  in  the  train  of  the  queen-mother,  with 
Calignon  and  others  of  my  council,  his  tutors  and 
attendants." 

"  It  has  been  told  me  that  the  queen-mother  has 
a  great  liking  for  the  prince." 

"Yes,  it  is  even  so.  She  seeks  to  have  him 
about  her  whenever  it  is  possible,  saying  that  his 
high  spirits  greatly  divert  and  fascinate  her.  I 
trust  she  intends  honestly,  but  who  can  tell  ?  " 

For  the  first  time  a  cloud  of  anxiety  rested  on  the 
strong  face  of  the  queen. 

"Sometimes,"  she  continued  more  slowly  than 
she  had  been  speaking,  "  I  misdoubt  me  that  Cath 
arine  fears  my  boy  more  than  she  loves  him.  But 
why  should  she  ?  Hers  are  long,  long  thoughts,  but 
even  the  longest  should  not  reach  Henri.  She  has 
a  son  of  less  than  twenty  years  now  on  the  throne 
of  France,  and  besides  him  yet  two  sons  to  take  up 
the  succession  should  Charles  lack  issue.  It  would 
seem  impossible,  save  for  that  old  tale  of  the  vision 
shown  her  by  the  astrologer.  That,  it  was  said,  gave 
twenty-four  revolutions  of  a  magic  wheel  for  my 
Henri,  which  was  supposed  to  prefigure  so  many 
years  on  the  throne  of  France.  But  that  was  long 


84 

ago  and  perchance  but  idle  gossip,"  she  cried,  as  if 
interrupting  herself,  "and  at  best  it  was  a  supersti 
tion  better  forgotten.  I  was  speaking  of  Bayonne. 

"  You  know,  perchance,  that  Philip  came  not 
thither  to  meet  Catharine,  as  had  been  expected, 
but  sent  Isabella,  my  defender,  and  with  her  his 
ferocious  favorite,  Alva,  the  deadliest  foe  of  free 
dom  and  the  cruelest  in  the  world  to-day.  What 
could  such  a  conference  bode  save  ill  to  the  cause 
of  liberty  and  toleration  ?  " 

"  I  hear  that  my  father  accompanied  the  king  to 
Bayonne,"  said  Charlotte  anxiously. 

"It  is  true;  my  cousin  Montpensier  was  most 
eager  to  show  his  devotion  to  Philip  and  to  Cath 
olicity.  You  must  know  Alva  made  bold  to  chal 
lenge  the  loyalty  of  the  court  of  France  to  the  pa 
pacy.  All  the  French  princes  and  nobles  present 
thereupon  protested  their  devotion  to  the  Church 
and  Spain  and  monsieur  the  Due,  your  father,  ex 
claimed,  I  am  told,  that  he  would  be  cut  in  pieces 
for  Philip's  service.  He  even  embraced  Alva,  de 
claring  that  if  his  own  body  were  to  be  opened  at 
that  moment  the  name  of  Philip  would  be  found 
imprinted  on  his  heart !  " 

A  slight  groan  escaped  Charlotte's  lips. 

"  While  he  was  at  Bayonne,  "proceeded  the  queen, 
"  Henri  overheard  Alva  and  the  queen-mother  ear 
nestly  discussing  various  plans  for  ridding  Europe  of 
heresy.  Alva,  it  seems  but  fair  to  think,  was  urg 
ing  that  the  first  step  and  the  most  important  would 
be  to  cut  off  by  violence  the  Protestant  leaders  in 
each  nation.  The  rest  would  follow  easily.  With 
out  leaders  the  common  herd  could  easily  be  shocked 
into  obedience.  '  For,  madame,'  said  the  duke, — and 
this  Henri  distinctly  noted,  while  they  thought  him 
too  much  a  child  to  heed  their  words, — '  the  head 
of  one  salmon  is  worth  the  heads  of  ten  thousand 
frogs  ! '  That  gives  the  key  to  what  we  may  ex 
pect,  little  cousin,  for  I  cannot  doubt,  from  the  tern- 


85 

per  of  Catharine,  that  in  the  end  such  counsels  as 
these  will  prevail.  Calignon  sent  an  account  of 
this  conversation  as  Henri  repeated  it  to  him,  in 
cipher  by  a  special  messenger  to  me  in  Beam,  not 
three  weeks  since." 

At  this  moment  the  vesper  bell  from  the  chapel 
tower  was  heard  ringing  and  Charlotte  rose  at  the 
summons. 

Calling  Radegonde,  the  young  abbess  directed 
her  to  conduct  the  Queen  of  Navarre  to  the  suite 
of  rooms  now  prepared  for  her  in  the  guest  house 
across  the  abbey  courtyard,  where  she  would  find 
her  ladies.  This  done,  with  a  tender  au  revoir 
Charlotte  hastened  to  the  chapel. 

From  the  vesper  service,  it  was  noted  by  the 
circa,  the  sub-prioress,  Madame  Cecile  Crue,  was 
on  that  summer  evening  absent. 


MAITRE  TONTORF 

ADAME,  we  have  spoken  of  the  Catholic 
leaders  ;  who  are  the  master  spirits  to 
day  among  them  of  the  new  religion  ?  " 

Charlotte  de  Bourbon  asked  this  question  of  the 
Queen  of  Navarre  as  the  two  paced  slowly  together 
the  walks  of  the  convent  garden  the  following  morn 
ing.  The  flowers  seemed  kindlier,  her  majesty 
fancied,  than  the  decorations  of  the  hall. 

Mass  had  just  been  celebrated  in  the  Sainte 
Chapelle,  at  which  the  queen  had  not  been  pres 
ent. 

"  My  journey  at  this  time  from  Paris,"  she  re 
plied,  "  will  take  me  for  conference  with  the  greatest 
military  leader  our  cause  has  to-day  in  all  Europe, 
the  admiral  of  France,  Gaspard  de  Coligny. " 

Jeanne  d'Albret  spoke  the  name  with  enthusiastic 
reverence. 

"  Madame  is  then  on  her  way  to  Chatillon  ? 
This  I  did  not  know,  because,  in  sooth,  I  had  not 
stopped  to  inquire.  Ah,  how  good  you  are  thus  to 
come  out  of  your  proper  road  to  see  your  little 
lonely  cousin  !  " 

Charlotte's  eyes  brimmed  with  grateful  tears. 

"  It  is  a  mere  trifle  out  of  my  way,  little  one.  I 
was  glad,  moreover,  to  tarry  a  night  at  Meaux, 
where  I  have  a  good  friend  I  wish  some  day  to  make 
your  friend  also,  the  Sieur  de  Minay.  To  con 
tinue  with  the  leaders  of  Huguenoterie, — which  to 
day  is  no  longer  solely  a  spiritual  temper,  a  re 
ligious  conviction,  but  has  become  a  great  and 
powerful  political  party,  for  all  Europe  is  divided 
86 


87 

now  into  two  great  camps, — next  to  Coligny  1 
ghould  place  your  cousin,  brother  of  my  husband, 
the  Prince  of  Conde." 

"Yes,  that  is  as  I  supposed,"  said  Charlotte. 

"  But  around  Coligny  there  is  growing  up  a  little 
group  of  young  cavaliers,  men  of  like  temper  with 
him,  knights  of  pure  life  and  holy  purpose,  sans 
peur  et  sans  reproche.  These  men  are  deeply  de 
voted  to  the  admiral,  men  like  the  Chevalier  de  la 
Noue  and  young  Teligny  and  many  another." 

"  I  would  I  could  once  see  the  admiral,"  cried 
Charlotte  longingly. 

"  Ah,  my  child,  he  stands  almost  alone  now  for 
the  old  chivalry  of  France,  a  gentle  and  perfect 
knight,  though  so  great  a  soldier.  If  I  could  but 
take  you  with  me  to  Chatillon  !  There  you  would 
see  not  only  Coligny  but  Charlotte  de  Laval,  his 
wife,  surely  the  sweetest  saint  and  the  bravest  in 
France  to-day  !  But  to  continue.  Like  women 
ever  we  range  everywhere  rather  than  cleave  to 
one  narrow  path. 

"  Jean  Goujon,  Ambrose  Pare,  and  many  other 
Frenchmen  of  genius  and  fame,  have  now  declared 
for  the  religion.  In  England,  you  know,  they  have 
at  present  a  Protestant  queen,  who,"  Jeanne 
d'Albret  added  with  a  touch  of  sarcasm,  "when 
she  can  be  fully  persuaded  and  remain  persuaded 
over  a  night  that  it  is  for  her  own  material  interest 
to  aid  the  cause,  has  been  known  to  dole  out  a  few 
ships  and  men." 

"That  sounds,  dear  madame,  as  if  the  English 
queen  were  not  unlike  the  queen-mother  of  France." 

"  Charlotte,  allowing  for  the  differences  of  race, 
of  family,  and  of  education,  Elizabeth  of  England 
and  Catharine  de  Medici  are  like  enough  to  each 
other  to  be  sisters  !  Neither  has  a  heart  which  can 
be  touched  by  tenderness  or  by  religious  devotion. 
Policy  and  self-interest  rule  the  Englishwoman  as 
they  rule  the  Italian.  They  will  outwit  Catholics 


88 

one  day  and  Protestants  the  next,  if  it  serves  their 
purpose,  and  in  my  own  heart  I  believe  they  despise 
both  alike,  being  unable  to  conceive  the  sincerity 
of  either.  Nevertheless,  the  Queen  of  England  is 
counted  in  the  Protestant  camp. 

"  Then  we  have  many  German  princes,  most 
notably  the  Elector  Palatine,  Friedrich  der  Fromm, 
whose  court  at.  Heidelberg  is  a  haven  of  refuge  for 
those  who  flee  from  France,  being  persecuted  for 
their  faith.  In  the  Low  Countries,  where  the  con 
flict  between  the  two  religions  bids  fair  to  be  a 
fierce  one,  there  is  as  yet  no  great  Protestant  leader ; 
howbeit  I  have  many  hopes  myself  of  what  may 
come  from  the  influence  of  my  friend,  the  young 
Count  of  Nassau,  Louis,  brother  to  the  Prince  of 
Orange." 

Charlotte  de  Bourbon  glanced  up  at  the  queen 
with  quickened  interest. 

"  The  prince,  although  himself  Catholic,  is  mar 
ried  now  to  a  Protestant  princess,  Anne  of  Saxony, 
and  is  known  to  stand  stoutly  against  the  introduc 
tion  of  the  Inquisition  into  the  Low  Countries.  Ah, 
he  is  a  noble  and  a  puissant  prince  ;  if  we  could  but 
count  him  among  us  !  " 

"How  chances  it  that  these  brothers  are  so  di 
verse  in  name  and  faith,  the  one  a  Prince  of 
Orange,  the  other  a  Count  of  Nassau  ;  the  one 
Calvinist,  the  other  Catholic  ?  "  asked  Charlotte. 

"It  is  quite  a  tale  to  tell,"  replied  the  queen, 
"and  goes  back  a  generation.  The  Nassaus  are, 
as  you  perchance  know,  a  German  not  a  Flemish 
family  ;  but  having  vast  estates  in  Flanders,  one 
branch  of  the  house  has  ever  held  the  German  and 
the  other  the  Netherlandish  possessions.  These 
are  known  as  Nassau-Dillenburg  and  Nassau-Breda, 
in  token  of  their  great  baronies.  Young  Rene  of 
Nassau,  a  generation  ago  the  head  of  the  last- 
named  house,  by  his  maternal  inheritance  became 
also  Prince  of  Orange,  the  small  estate  in  Avignon, 


89 

small  and  yet  a  free  sovereignty.  This  Rene  was 
a  gallant  soldier  and  a  great  favorite  of  the  Emperor 
Charles.  By  special  favor  the  emperor  permitted 
him  to  name  as  his  heir  his  young  cousin  of  the 
German  branch  of  the  Nassaus,  William.  Then, 
about  twenty  years  ago,  at  the  battle  of  St.  Dizier, 
Rene  was  killed ;  and  this  youth,  but  eleven  years 
of  age,  who  had  been  brought  up  in  the  German 
and  Protestant  home  of  the  Nassaus  at  Dillenburg, 
succeeded  to  his  princedom  and  to  all  his  titles  and 
possessions. 

"  The  emperor  liked  the  boy,  who  was  at  once 
taken  to  the  court  at  Brussels, — from  the  first,  and 
brought  him  up  as  his  own  son  and,  it  needs  not  to 
say,  as  a  Catholic.  He  was  given  the  best  educa 
tion  that  a  prince  of  sovereign  rank  could  receive, 
and  peculiar  privilege  and  training  in  all  matters  of 
diplomacy  and  State,  for  which  he  is  said  to  have 
extraordinary  talent. 

"  Thus  you  see,  my  child,  while  John  and  Louis 
and  the  other  young  counts  of  Nassau  have  grown 
up  in  their  ancestral  castle  at  Dillenburg  simply 
noblemen  and  Protestant  through  and  through,  the 
eldest  son,  this  William,  has  grown  up  at  court ;  he 
has  had  the  training  of  a  Catholic  prince  and  of  a 
son  of  the  great  emperor.  Moreover,  he  himself  is 
of  sovereign  rank  and  enormous  wealth  and  influ 
ence.  Have  I  answered  your  question  ?  " 

"  Yes,  surely,  and  it  is  a  matter  of  much  interest. 
Are  the  Prince  of  Orange  and  Philip  of  Spain  then 
right  fain  and  brotherly  together  ?  "  Charlotte  had 
listened  to  the  queen's  recital  intently,  with  a  deli 
cate  flush  in  her  cheeks. 

"Nay,  far  from  it,  mignonne"  cried  Jeanne 
d'Albret.  "  That  dark  and  bitter  Spaniard  has  had 
from  boyhood,  it  is  well  known,  an  unquenchable 
jealousy,  an  inborn  suspiciousness  toward  his  grace 
of  Orange.  Probably  the  old  emperor  liked  him  too 
well.  Surely  he  might  be  pardoned  if  he  took 


90 

greater  pleasure  in  his  gracious  companionship  than 
in  that  of  a  son  who,  men  say,  was  never  known 
once  in  his  life  to  laugh  heartily." 

"  And  this  brother  Louis,  madame  ma  cousine,  of 
whom  you  have  such  hopes,  you  speak  of  him  as 
your  friend.  Have  you  seen  him,  then,  frequently  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  yet  I  would  have  seen  him  far  more  fre 
quently  if  I  could.  He  has  come  to  our  court  at 
Pau  more  than  once  from  Geneva,  where  he  studied 
for  some  years.  Ah,  Charlotte,"  and  the  queen 
glanced  at  the  young  abbess  with  arch  raillery,  "if 
you  were  not  a  religieuse,  Louis  of  Nassau  would 
be  the  cavalier  I  should  wish  to  see  win  you  if  he 
could  !  So  gallant,  so  debonair,  and  withal  so 
religious  a  young  knight  have  I  never  seen.  He  is 
irresistible  !  I  could  even  fall  in  love  with  him 
myself,  I,  at  my  age,"  and  the  merry,  uncon 
strained  laughter  of  her  majesty  rang  out  upon  the 
still  air,  a  most  unwonted  sound  in  those  precincts. 

Charlotte  glanced  instinctively  up  the  garden 
walk  to  the  deep,  shadowy  portal  of  the  cloister 
beyond  the  ancient  oak  tree.  What  could  be  more 
natural  than  to  see  a  black-robed  figure  silently 
vanishing  through  the  dim  vista  beyond  ?  And  yet 
it  was  an  hour  when  the  nuns  were  not  wont  to  be 
walking  at  will  in  the  convent's  cloisters  and  courts. 

Jeanne  d'Albret's  keen  eyes  had  also  perceived 
the  figure  in  its  clinging  draperies,  with  its  bowed 
and  hooded  head  and  its  noiseless  step. 

"Madame  Crue,  n'est-ce pas?"  she  asked  dryly. 

Charlotte  assented. 

They  turned  again  and  walked  on. 

"My  child,"  said  Jeanne  d'Albret  after  a  mo 
ment's  silence,  "there  have  been  times  since  I 
came  into  this  beautiful  old  convent  of  yours  that 
I  have  even  envied  you  its  secure  repose.  It  seems 
to  possess  a  most  sweet  and  holy  atmosphere,  so 
protected  and  so  peaceful.  I  love  those  gray  and 
ancient  cloisters  and  that  dim,  vaulted  chapel  and 


your  old  stone  cross  yonder  among  the  quiet  graves. 
Your  nuns  are  like  those  doves  in  their  mild,  meek 
ways.  They  go  quietly  about  their  pleasant  tasks 
and  every  nook  and  corner,  every  bit  of  brass  or 
piece  of  linen  shows  their  exquisite  care.  The 
roses  are  marvelously  sweet ;  the  voices  of  your 
choir  make  holy  music  ;  I  listened  while  you  were 
within  the  chapel  during  mass  and  they  stirred  me 
strangely  with  those  most  affecting  strains,  '  O  God, 
make  haste  to  help  me.  O  Lord,  make  speed  to 
save  me.'  In  faith,  Charlotte,  that  music  melted 
me  to  tears,  and  I  weep  not  often.  For  a  moment, 
as  I  said  at  first,  I  could  have  wished  that  my  lot 
like  yours  had  been  cast  here,  far  from  the  noise  of 
camps  and  the  glare  of  courts,  sheltered  and  sure." 

Greatly  surprised  at  these  words  from  her  ener 
getic  and  high-spirited  friend,  Charlotte  awaited 
eagerly  what  should  follow. 

"  But,  little  cousin,"  the  queen  proceeded  with 
lowered  voice,  "when  I  see  the  scarce  hid  espion 
age,  when  I  observe  the  face  of  your  sub-prioress, 
those  hard,  watchful  eyes,  that  cold  mouth,  and 
when  I  note  on  all  the  other  faces  that  chill  restraint 
which  tells  of  life  and  energy  suppressed,  then  I 
long  rather  to  flee  from  the  place,  fair  and  peaceful 
though  it  is,  and  take  you  and  all  these  compan 
ions  of  yours  with  me  into  freedom.  Loving  you 
as  I  do,  Charlotte  de  Bourbon,  I  would  rather  see 
your  heart  burn  itself  out  with  the  fire  of  devotion 
to  faith  and  country  in  these  fierce  times,  than  to 
see  that  heart  crushed  out  by  the  benumbing 
weight  of  this  infinitely  petty  world  of  Jouarre !  " 

Carried  beyond  her  own  judgment  and  intent  the 
queen  had  spoken  with  the  impetuosity  common  to 
her  when  deeply  stirred,  and  she  looked  with  quick 
compunction  at  the  profound  sadness  of  Charlotte's 
face. 

"  And  yet  I  should  not  have  spoken  so  hastily," 
she  quickly  added.  "  There  is  another  aspect  to 


92 

this  case  ;  you  are  in  an  exalted  place  of  influence, 
with  power  to  lead  many  to  God.  You  are  absolute 
in  your  own  realm  and  you  rule  that  realm  with 
wisdom.  I  have  marked  the  spotless  order  and  I 
have  seen  the  clock-like  regularity  with  which  the 
day's  work  and  worship  are  discharged.  You  are  a 
woman  now,  my  Charlotte,  gentle,  just,  and  wise 
like  your  dear  mother " 

"  Madame,"  cried  Charlotte  de  Bourbon,  inter 
rupting  her  majesty  and  speaking  with  a  mournful- 
ness,  and  yet  with  a  power  which  had  not  hitherto 
appeared  in  her  almost  languid  gentleness,  "  mad- 
ame,  I  am,  alas,  not  a  woman.  I  am  not  what  you 
think  me.  I  am  what  they  have  sought  to  make 
me  here — a  cipher." 

"  How  mean  you  ?  "  asked  Jeanne  d'Albret 
watching  the  significant  change  in  the  lovely  girl 
ish  face  with  earnest  interest. 

"  I  mean,  madame,"  replied  Charlotte,  with  the 
same  serious  emphasis,  "  that  whether  it  be  with 
good  intent  or  ill,  all  these  women  about  me  have 
conspired  to  keep  me  a  child,  satisfied  with  a  show 
of  power ;  petted  and  pampered,  made  to  be  the 
princess  and  the  grandc.  dame,  but  in  all  spiritual 
and  actual  influence — nothing.  Oh,  yes,"  the  girl 
went  on,  her  cheek  flushing,  her  lips  proudly,  sadly 
smiling,  "why  is  it  I  have  never  seen  before  what 
I  see  so  plainly  to-day  ?  It  has  been  something 
magnifical  to  the  old  Abbey  of  Jouarre  to  name  as 
its  abbess  a  Bourbon  princess  ;  and  so  they  have 
been  fain  to  keep  me  here  ;  I  have  been  a  pretty 
ornament — a  decoration  like  a  rose  of  gold,  or  a 
corbel  of  marble  for  the  altar,  without  use  or  en 
ergy  ;  all  they  have  asked  of  me  is  to  be  nothing 
more  than  this,  that  so  unhindered  they  may  rule 
this  little  world  to  suit  their  own  will  and  purpose." 

"  This  can  hardly  be  true  of  all  the  women  about 
you,  my  Charlotte.  It  may  be  true  of  one,"  said 
Jeanne  d'Albret  significantly. 


"'  I  was  about  to  ask  the  name  of  this  most  lovely  rose.'" 

Page  93 


93 

"  And  since  Cecile  Crue  rules  all  the  others," 
returned  Charlotte  under  her  breath,  "what  matters 
it  ?  The  same  end  is  reached.  Did  you  fancy, 
madame  ma  cousine,  that  I  ruled  in  Jouarre  ?  Hardly 
could  you  have  been  wider  of  the  mark.  Like 
yourself  I  am  a  guest  here.  But  unlike  you  I  must 
remain  even  to  the  end." 

Charlotte  spoke  each  word  slowly  as  if  weighing 
for  herself  rather  than  for  the  Queen  of  Navarre 
its  full  significance. 

The  latter  turned,  fully  facing  her,  and  taking 
both  her  hands  in  hers,  which  were  strong  and  sup 
ple  and  satin  smooth,  she  said  very  low  :  "  Madame 
Crue  is  coming  down  the  walk,  we  may  not  again 
be  alone  together.  This  remember — never  to  de 
spair  ;  never  to  forget  your  high  heritage.  More 
than  all,  in  faith  and  true  humility  rise  without  fear 
to  your  rightful  place  and  rule  your  realm  as  true 
woman  and  true  Christian.  Ah  Sister  Cecile,"  she 
said  in  a  lively  tone,  the  nun  having  now  reached 
them,  "Mademoiselle  and  I  have  had  a  happy 
little  family  visit  here  among  your  famous  flowers. 
I  was  about  to  ask  the  name  of  this  most  lovely 
rose  ?  "  and  she  bent  and  lifted  the  exquisite 
creamy  head  swaying  in  the  sunlight  on  its  glossy 
stem. 

•  Cecile  Crue  knew  that  roses  had  not  long  been 
occupying  the  royal  mind,  but  her  part  was  pliable, 
obsequious  deference  and  she  proceeded  to  fill  her 
part. 

In  the  evening  the  Abbess  of  Jouarre  entertained 
her  royal  cousin  at  a  banquet  in  her  own  hall, 
served  with  something  of  stately  splendor,  as  be 
fitted  the  rank  of  her  guest  of  honor. 

With  Jeanne  d'Albret  came  her  ladies,  while 
Charlotte  de  Bourbon  was  attended  as  usual  by 
her  maidens,  the  two  Jeannes.  Present  besides  by 
reason  of  their  office  were  the  sub-prioress  of  the 
abbey  and  the  priest  in  residence. 


94 

The  Queen  of  Navarre  had  assumed  a  state  cos 
tume  in  honor  of  her  hostess,  and  was  magnificent 
in  a  flowing  robe  of  black  lace  worn  over  a  closely 
fitting  suit  of  white  and  silver  brocade,  a  fashion  of 
attire  famous  in  the  day  under  the  name  "trans 
parencies." 

Charlotte,  as  she  advanced  with  maiden  grace  to 
meet  her  majesty,  looked  not  a  whit  less  royal  than 
her  guest.  She  was  dressed  in  spotless  white  as 
ever,  but  with  a  long  embroidered  silken  train,  and 
with  her  golden  hair,  which  was  full  and  of  waving 
luxuriance,  tastefully  disposed  and  covered  only  by 
a  wide  meshed  net  of  gold  thread,  studded  with 
pearls.  Her  color  was  deeper  than  its  wont  to 
night,  her  eyes  were  full  of  a  new  light,  soft  and  yet 
proud,  and  on  her  lips  was  a  firmness  of  resolution 
in  contrast  with  the  charming  yet  pathetic  languor 
which  had  hitherto  been  their  most  familiar  expres 
sion. 

As  she  led  the  Queen  of  Navarre  across  the 
brightly  lighted  hall  and  placed  her  at  the  head  of 
the  table  at  her  own  right  hand  every  eye  in  the 
room  followed  the  two,  and  those  who  had  known 
her  longest,  marked  with  surprise  the  bearing  of 
the  youthful  abbess,  whose  dignity  and  charm 
seemed  rather  augmented  than  overshadowed  by 
the  presence  of  the  renowned  queen. 

The  sub-prioress  and  the  two  Jeannes  appeared 
of  necessity  in  their  conventual  robes,  but  the  rich 
dresses  of  the  court-ladies  of  Navarre  counterbal 
anced  the  mournfulness  of  these,  and  the  scene  at 
the  table  was  brilliant  and  imposing. 

The  banquet  was  nearly  at  an  end  when  Sister 
Radegonde  entered  the  hall  and  crossing  to  the  head 
of  the  table  spoke  in  a  low  voice  to  the  young 
abbess.  After  the  exchange  of  several  questions 
and  replies,  Charlotte  turned  to  the  queen  and 
said  : 

"Madame,  the  sister  tells  me  that  a  lace  mer- 


95 

chant  from  Brussels,  a  man  of  worthy  and  reputable 
appearance,  has  arrived  at  the  abbey,  accompanied 
by  his  servant.  The  curious  circumstance  is  that 
he  was  on  his  way  with  his  wares  to  visit  your 
court  at  Pau,  having  been  commended  to  your 
majesty's  favor  by  a  friend  of  yours.  At  Coulom- 
miers  he  heard  by  accident,  but  most  naturally, 
that  you  were  at  Jouarre  on  a  visit  and  accordingly 
he  has  made  haste  to  come  hither.  What  say  you  ? 
Would  it  be  your  wish  to  see  the  man  now  ?  " 

Jeanne  d'Albret  heard  this  account  with  a  some 
what  indifferent  countenance. 

"  I  know  not  that  1  care  to  buy  laces  while  on  a 
journey  of  such  length  as  this,"  she  said  carelessly. 
"And,  moreover,  why  cannot  the  man  wait  till 
morning  ?  " 

One  of  her  ladies  bent  over  and  reminded  the 
queen  that  their  own  party  would  leave  Jouarre 
early  the  following  morning. 

"Very  true,"  was  the  reply,  but  with  a  doubt 
ful  and  unconvinced  accent. 

"What  have  you  there,  Radegonde  ?  "  asked 
Charlotte. 

Radegonde  now  handed  her  a  small  sealed  note, 
which,  marking  its  address,  Charlotte  passed  on 
to  the  queen. 

Opening  it,  still  with  a  countenance  expressive 
of  slight  and  casual  attention,  Jeanne  d'Albret  read 
a  reverential  greeting  of  herself,  followed  only  by 
these  words  : 

I  trust  it  may  seem  good  to  your  majesty  to  receive  the  lace 
merchant,  Tontorf.  I  believe  his  wares  will  please  you. 

LOUIS  OF  NASSAU. 

Jeanne  d'Albret  dropped  the  missive  carelessly 
into  her  lap,  her  face  unchanged  even  to  the  curi 
ous  eyes  of  Sister  Cecile,  which  scanned  it  nar 
rowly. 

"  How  is  it,  ma  cousine,"  she  said  lightly,  smiling 


96 

at  Charlotte,  "  have  you  holy  maids  of  Jouarre  use 
for  such  trifling  gauds  and  fangles  ?  The  man 
comes  well  commended,  but  the  time  seems  to  me 
a  thought  inopportune." 

"  We  need  new  lace,  if  it  please  you,  madame," 
said  Jeannette  timidly  to  the  abbess,  "  for  the 
altar." 

"  That  is  true,  dear  Jeannette,"  said  Charlotte  ; 
"  and  moreover  it  will  be  a  chance  to  while  away 
an  hour  for  these  noble  ladies  who  I  fear  find  the 
monotony  of  our  abbey  dull  and  irksome.  Yes, 
Radegonde,  if  her  majesty  agrees,  send  the  mer 
chant  in  hither  presently." 

"  Of  a  surety,"  said  Jeanne  d'Albret  pleasantly  ; 
"I  can  always  find  pleasure  in  good  lace,  even  if  I 
care  not  to  buy." 

As  they  rose  from  the  table  the  queen  crossed  to 
the  fireplace  where  a  few  embers  smoldered  as 
the  August  evening  had  chanced  to  be  cool,  and 
seemed  about  to  toss  the  note  which  she  had  just 
read  into  the  fire.  As  she  bent  to  do  this  something 
caused  her  to  change  her  mind,  and  unnoticed,  she 
slipped  it  into  her  bosom. 

Even  as  Jeanne  d'Albret  turned  from  the  fireplace 
and  stood  looking  down  the  fine  old  vaulted  hall  so 
unwontedly  full  that  night  of  light  and  color,  the 
door  was  again  thrown  open  and  a  man  of  some 
what  striking  aspect  was  ushered  into  the  presence. 

As  this  man  passed  slowly  up  the  hall,  followed 
by  a  man-servant  clad  in  drab  moleskin  hose  and 
jerkin  and  carrying  a  pack  enclosed  in  brown  leather, 
he  was  seen  to  be  upward  of  fifty  years,  a  man 
with  a  clear-featured  and  clean-shaven  face  which 
contrasted  not  unpleasantly  in  its  firm  lines  and 
ruddy  color  with  his  hair,  which  was  absolutely 
white.  There  were  lines  as  of  thought  and  study 
about  brow  and  eyes  of  the  man,  and  a  singular, 
brooding  thoughtfulness  dwelt  in  the  latter  which 
made  the  face  one  not  soon  forgotten.  For  the  rest, 


97 

the  lace  merchant  was  of  goodly  port  and  mien, 
well  though  slenderly  built,  dressed  in  doublet  and 
trunk  hose  of  fine  cloth  of  a  dark  claret  color,  with 
long  black  stockings  and  with  broad,  delicately  em 
broidered  ruffles  at  throat  and  wrists. 

Charlotte  de  Bourbon  had  crossed  to  her  cousin's 
side,  and  led  by  the  nun,  the  merchant  advanced 
and  knelt  in  dignified  but  humble  obeisance  before 
the  princely  pair,  kissing  the  edge  of  the  robe  of 
each.  Then  rising  at  the  bidding  of  Jeanne  d'Al- 
bret  he  received  permission  to  present  his  wares, 
which  the  servant  now  proceeded  to  unfold  and 
produce  from  his  leather  pack. 

While  this  was  going  forward  Mattre  Tontorf  stood 
in  a  respectful  but  composed  attitude  at  a  slight 
remove  from  the  royal  ladies,  while  from  time  to 
time  his  eyes  strayed  around  the  room  with  a  glance 
peculiarly  swift  and  searching. 

A  table  had  been  drawn  up  upon  which  the  laces 
were  now  laid,  Tontorf  stepping  forward  and  dis 
playing  them,  handling  them  with  marked  dexterity 
of  touch. 

Five  minutes  sufficed  to  bring  the  heads  of  all  the 
ladies  present  together  over  the  table,  for  the 
dealer's  wares  proved  to  be  of  rare  and  exquisite 
quality,  and  even  Sister  Cecile  could  not  withstand 
their  attractive  power. 

Ten  minutes  passed.  The  interest  in  the  laces 
was  noticeably  on  the  increase.  Several  pieces 
surprisingly  fine  and  cheap  had  been  produced. 
There  was  food  for  much  discussion  and  the  ladies 
proved  eager  to  discuss  and  compare  values.  Very 
quietly  then  Maitre  Tontorf  withdrew  from  the 
little  group  by  a  few  paces  and  standing  before  the 
chimney-piece  seemed  to  study  the  fading  figure  of 
old  Saint  Theodehilde  in  the  ancient  portrait  with 
marked  interest. 

This  action  on  the  part  of  the  dealer  did  not 
escape  Sister  Cecile.  From  the  group  of  chatter- 
Jft 


98 

ing  women  her  eyes  cautiously  and  steadily  fol 
lowed  him.  His  earnest  scrutiny  of  the  historic 
portrait  began  to  prove  annoying  to  her.  A  sense 
of  uneasiness  concerning  the  man's  action  displaced 
that  of  short-lived  interest  in  his  wares. 

Presently  she  moved  noiselessly  nearer  to  the 
place  where  Maitre  Tontorf  stood.  Turning  his 
eyes,  without  otherwise  moving,  and  seeming 
neither  startled  nor  disturbed  by  her  silent  ap 
proach  the  lace  merchant  said  in  a  strikingly  well- 
modulated  voice : 

"  Rather  an  interesting  old  portrait,  madame,  but 
I  should  advise  her  grace  the  Abbess  of  Jouarre  to 
have  it  presently  more  securely  fitted  to  its  frame. 
Do  you  notice  a  considerable  space,"  and  Maitre 
Tontorf  pointed  with  one  finger,  "  at  the  right,  be 
tween  the  portrait  and  the  oakwood  of  the  mould- 
ing?" 

He  turned  as  he  spoke  and  fixed  his  eyes  in  a 
direct  gaze,  mild  and  musing  upon  the  pallid  face 
of  Sister  Cecile.  A  deep,  dark  flush  rose  slowly 
and  suffused  her  cheeks  and  even  mounted  to  the 
temples.  An  instant  later  she  clasped  her  hands 
beneath  the  long  black  folds  of  her  sleeves,  and 
turned  with  downcast  eyes  as  if  it  were  not  per 
mitted  for  a  religieuse  to  hold  longer  converse  with 
a  man. 

"  Possibly  you  are  right,"  she  murmured  coldly. 
"  It  is  a  matter  for  the  house  carpenter." 


XI 

THE  DAUGHTER  OF  A  KINGLY  LINE 

ON  the  twenty-fourth  of  August,  being  St.  Bar 
tholomew's  Day,  a  scene  of  singular  interest 
was  enacted  in  the  ancient  Abbey  of  Jouarre. 

The  ringing,  solemn  and  prolonged,  of  the  chapel 
bell  at  an  unwonted  hour  called  all  the  nuns,  serv 
ants,  and  retainers  together  to  the  chapter-house, 
but  for  what  purpose  all  inquired  in  vain. 

As  they  waited  in  wondering  silence  the  bell 
ceased  tolling.  Then  in  the  full  habit  of  her  office 
and  order,  her  white  veil  fastened  about  the  head 
by  a  slender  circlet  of  gold,  her  tall  crozier  in  her 
hand,  Charlotte  de  Bourbon,  Abbess  of  Jouarre, 
walked  alone  and  slowly  into  the  lofty  ecclesiastical 
chamber. 

So  stately,  so  imposing,  and  so  noble  had  they 
never  seen  her,  and  yet  there  was  something  of  the 
shy  and  gentle  modesty  of  her  youth  and  of  her 
natural  habit  in  the  slight  droop  of  her  head  upon 
the  slender  neck,  and  in  the  appealing  sweetness 
of  her  mouth  ;  but  in  the  blue  eyes,  under  their  level 
lids,  dwelt  a  light  of  conquering  courage  at  which 
all  her  world  marveled. 

Until  this  day  their  abbess  had  been  among  them 
as  a  child,  a  princely  and  a  well-beloved  child,  but 
as  she  herself  had  said,  destitute  of  power  and  with 
out  energy.  What  signified  this  strange  scene  ? 
Surely  this  was  not  enacted  at  the  instance  of  Cecile 
Crue,  for  hers  was  the  blankest  face  and  the  most 
perplexed  in  the  company,  and  yet  heretofore  for 
many  years  hers  had  been  the  operating  mind  and 
hand  in  every  event  of  importance  at  Jouarre. 

99 


100 

I 

Charlotte  de  Bourbon,  crossing  the  wide,  octag 
onal  chapter-house  chamber,  now  mounted  to  a 
raised  and  canopied  stone  seat,  and  standing  before 
it,  lifted  her  right  hand,  pronouncing  in  a  clear  voice 
the  words : 

"  In  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  Amen." 

Every  person  in  the  room  had  risen  and  stood 
now  with  eyes  fixed  upon  the  young  abbess,  listen 
ing  with  eager  ears  for  what  should  follow. 

Without  tremor  or  hesitation  she  proceeded  to 
address  the  chapter,  the  nuns,  the  novices  and  serv 
ants  in  words  of  affectionate  greeting,  and  all 
marveled  greatly  at  the  authority  with  which  she 
spoke. 

"  1  have  called  you  together,"  she  said,  "to  cite 
you  to  the  past,  imploring  your  pity  for  what  I  have 
suffered  and  your  pardon  for  my  neglect,  my  ig 
norance,  and  my  faults.  I  have  not  been  your 
head  ;  I  have  been  scarce  better  to  you  than  a  play 
thing  or  an  ornament.  I  have  not  been  a  woman, 
but  a  child. 

"  Dear  sisters  of  our  holy  order,  I  have  this  to 
say  to  you  in  few  words,  as  I  have  no  gift  of  speech 
to  hold  you  long.  I  was  made  your  abbess  in  my 
childhood,  against  my  will  and  my  most  earnest 
protests  and  prayers,  and  only  because  it  was  my 
father's  wish.  With  bitter  tears  and  a  broken 
heart,  being  driven  by  cruel  threats  and  heartless 
menaces,  I  came  into  your  presence,  scarcely  con 
scious,  such  was  my  confusion  and  anguish,  yield 
ing  only  because  my  childish  feebleness  had  been 
overborne  by  the  force  of  tyranny.  Thus  I  re 
ceived  my  sacrosanct  investiture  as  abbess  of  this 
house. 

"  But  how  was  this  holy  office  solemnized  ?  No 
bishop  bestowed  the  benediction,  but  an  unqualified 
priest.  The  good  Bishop  of  Meaux  would  not  have 
consented  to  such  a  mockery,  and  his  presence  was 


IOI 

not  desired.  Madame  du  Paraclete,  who  gave  me 
the  veil,  was  not  herself  an  ordained  abbess,  and 
consequently  could  not  make  my  profession  lawful  ; 
the  written  paper  from  which  I  read  my  vows  was 
a  counterfeit,  a  travesty  on  the  real  vows,  smoothed 
and  altered  to  pacify  my  childish  fears." 

As  Charlotte  de  Bourbon  continued,  recalling  and 
recounting  these  circumstances  of  her  consecration, 
a  scarlet  spot  burned  on  either  cheek,  a  high  and 
imperious  light  flashed  from  her  eyes,  her  voice 
rang  through  the  vaulted  room  fearless  and  firm. 
She  was  every  inch  the  daughter  of  a  kingly  line. 

"  So  then,  by  force,  by  fraud,  at  an  uncanonical 
age,  and  without  benediction  of  a  bishop,  the  child 
was  made  your  abbess.  These  facts  are  known  in 
part  to  all  of  you,  in  greater  part  to  a  few  of  you. 
To  Madame  Cecile  Crue  and  to  Pere  Ruze  they 
are  known  wholly,  to  every  last  heart-throb  of  the 
child's  agony.  To-morrow,  in  this  room,  in  presence 
of  a  notary  I  shall  require  the  signatures  of  such  of 
you  as  were  knowing  to  these  facts  to  a  document 
clearly  stating  them  which  I  conceive  belongs  of 
due  right  in  the  archives  of  this  monastery  as  well 
as  to  myself." 

At  this  declaration  the  countenance  of  Cecile 
Crue  had  become  fairly  livid,  while  the  amazement 
of  all  the  other  nuns  and  novices  at  the  sudden 
transformation  of  their  maiden-abbess  kindled  to  a 
passion  of  adoring  loyalty.  Was  this  the  pathetic, 
languid  child  of  Jouarre  ?  Nay,  rather,  they  saw 
at  last  a  right  royal  and  worthy  head,  an  abbess  of 
holy  heart  and  of  power  commanding,  such  a  head 
as  Jouarre  had  never  known.  Through  all  the  com 
pany  ran  a  murmur  of  sympathy  and  devotion. 

"  Holy  Mary,  Mother  of  God,  blessed  art  thou  ! 
The  child  is  a  woman  and  has  come  to  her  own," 
whispered  Sister  Marie  Brette  to  old  Radegonde, 
while  the  two  Jeannes  clasped  each  other's  hands 
with  adoring  glances. 


102 

"  To-day,  sisters  beloved,"  continued  Charlotte 
de  Bourbon,  "I  declare  myself,  in  spite  of  all  that 
is  past,  your  present  head.  I  have  now  attained 
the  age  of  eighteen  and  I  wish  to  enter  upon  my 
full  charge.  No  longer  among  the  small  number  of 
our  sisterhood  is  the  office  of  sub-prioress  required. 
According  to  the  power  and  authority  vested  in  me, 
I  now  and  herewith,  in  presence  of  you  all,  declare 
that  office  vacant,  this  to  be  confirmed,  if  it  be  your 
will,  by  the  chapter  in  session  following. 

With  softer  looks  and  a  voice  which  trembled  now 
with  deep  emotion  the  young  abbess  continued  : 

"  It  shall  now  become  my  ceaseless  effort  in  all 
humility,  obedience,  and  love,  to  grow  up  into  a 
worthy  headship,  to  be  among  you  as  a  true  abbess, 
guiding,  purifying,  and  upbuilding  the  flock,  fulfill 
ing  the  will  and  commands  of  our  blessed  Jesu,  Son 
of  Mary,  spotless  Lamb  of  God,"  with  which  words 
the  abbess  and  all  present  bent  the  head  in  reverent 
devotion,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross  upon  fore 
head  and  breast. 

After  a  solemn  chant  and  the  benediction  pro 
nounced  by  the  breathless  and  astonished  confes 
sor,  the  now  self-consecrated  abbess,  for  such  she 
seemed  to  all  of  them,  crozier  in  hand  with  slow 
steps  and  noble  humility  of  mien,  walked  from  the 
place,  a  look  of  high,  angelic  devotion  resting  upon 
her  face. 

The  day  which  followed  witnessed  the  formal 
signature  of  the  document  which  the  young  girl  had 
framed  in  due  form  with  the  assistance  of  Maitre 
Bonnard,  advocate,  of  Jouarre.  It  set  forth  in  full, 
without  extenuation  or  malice,  the  conditions  attend 
ing  her  consecration  in  the  March  of  1559. 

Without  a  dissenting  vote  the  chapter  next  pro 
ceeded  to  carry  out  the  action  proposed  by  their 
abbess,  which  declared  the  office  of  sub-prioress 
abolished.  In  cold  and  envenomed  bitterness  of 
spirit  Cecile  Crue  asked  and  obtained  permission 


103 

to  be  transferred  to  a  neighboring  convent,  to  which 
she  presently  departed. 

Quietly  but  with  firm  purpose  and  energy  the 
girl  abbess  now  began  to  carry  out  her  new  pur 
poses  in  the  selfish  and  petty  life  of  the  little  com 
munity.  A  new  spirit  of  consecration  and  of  out 
going  charity  took  possession  of  the  sisters  of 
Jouarre,  and  a  new  and  broader  activity  quickly 
stirred  to  life. 

Then,  when  peace  and  charity  seemed  to  have 
begun  their  reign,  the  shadow  fell  again,  for  the 
influences  set  in  motion  by  Cecile  Crue  had  been 
working,  and  into  the  abbey  court  on  Saint  Bene 
dict's  eve  rode  Jean  Ruze,  hard  set  to  do  his  worst. 

Thus  it  fell  out  that  the  bishop-elect  of  Angers, 
author  of  the  famous  treatise,  "La  verite  et  anti- 
quite  de  la  Foi  catholique  "  once  again  sat  at  her 
own  table  en  tete-a-tete  with  an  Abbess  of  Jouarre. 

As  the  priest  glanced  from  time  to  time  at  the 
face  and  figure  of  the  stately  golden-haired  maiden 
opposite  him,  the  contrast  between  his  present 
hostess  and  his  hostess  at  this  same  table  eight 
years  before,  recurred  to  his  mind  forcibly.  In 
spite  of  the  antipathy  and  fear  which  she  felt  to 
ward  her  guest,  the  frank  innocence,  the  bright 
bloom,  and  the  exquisite  gentleness  of  Charlotte  de 
Bourbon  were  sharply  set  against  his  memory  of 
the  cold,  repellent,  mocking  worldliness  of  Louise 
de  Long-Vic. 

But  although  Jean  Ruze  was  quite  capable  of  ad 
miring  youth  and  loveliness  in  a  woman  he  was,  as 
prelate,  capable  of  ruthlessly  crushing  every  instinct 
which  might  have  led  him  to  chivalrous  and  manly 
protection.  The  purpose  of  his  presence  was  soon 
disclosed.  His  coming  was  the  slow  fruitage  of 
seed  sowed  by  Cecile  Crue  at  the  time  of  the  visit 
to  the  abbey  of  the  Queen  of  Navarre. 

Rising  from  the  table  at  the  close  of  the  meal, 
Charlotte  turned  with  resolute  initiative  to  Ruze, 


IO4 

feeling  as  if  the  hated  presence  of  this  man  had 
turned  her  to  'steel,  and  said  : 

"  Monsieur  will  be  so  good  as  to  explain  his  mis 
sion  here  speedily,  as  my  duties  at  this  hour  are 
many  and  pressing." 

Surprised  at  the  clear  unflinching  courage  of  her 
looks  and  the  note  of  authority  in  her  demand, 
Ruze  bowed  repeatedly  with  his  wonted  suavity 
before  he  attempted  to  reply. 

"  I  ask  simply  as  representing  his  grace,  the  Due 
your  father,  Mademoiselle  has  made  some  changes 
at  Jouarre,  n'est-ce  pas  ?  " 

Charlotte  bowed  slightly  in  assent. 

"I  note  the  absence  of  Sister  Cecile  Crue.  I 
hear  that  Mademoiselle  has  deposed  her  from  her 
position  as  sub-prioress  of  this  convent.  Was  she 
then  not  a  faithful  and  diligent  servant  ?  " 

"  Faithful  to  herself,"  replied  Charlotte  steadily  ; 
"  incomparably  diligent  in  your  service,  monsieur. 
For  mine  there  was  something  to  be  desired.  I  do 
not  employ  women  to  listen  behind  doors  nor  to 
secrete  themselves  in  the  crevices  of  walls  to  over 
hear  the  private  converse  of  others.  Furthermore, 
1  do  not  choose  that  such  things  shall  be  done  where 
I  am  mistress.  Madame  Crue  showed  herself  no 
longer  capable  of  serving  the  sisterhood  acceptably 
in  a  position  of  trust  and  honor.  Is  this  answer 
sufficient  ?  " 

It  was  a  bold  and  dangerous  challenge  and  Ruze 
felt  his  blood  tingle  with  the  sense  of  encountering 
a  foe  worthy  of  his  steel.  Still  smiling  coldly  he 
now  remarked  : 

"  It  is  commonly  rumored  that  Madame  Jeanne 
d'Albret  is  at  present  the  actual,  albeit  invisible, 
head  of  Jouarre,  and  that  it  is  her  purpose,  by  in 
sidious  and  underhanded  operations,  to  turn  it,  little 
by  little,  into  a  seat  of  heresy." 

"  If  such  rumor  exists  elsewhere  than  in  the 
imagination  of  monsieur  I  will  give  him  full  author- 


105 

ity  to  contradict  it.  Insidious  and  underhand  action 
is  impossible  to  the  Queen  of  Navarre,  however 
common  to  her  enemies.  It  is  wholly,  contempti 
bly  false." 

Jean  Ruze  glanced  aside  at  Charlotte's  face  with 
genuine  amazement.  What  had  come  over  this 
girl,  that  she  so  fairly  and  fearlessly  defied  him  ? 
He  fancied  he  had  broken  the  strength  of  her  will 
while  she  was  yet  a  child.  Did  she  then  know 
that  he  had  power  to  lay  again  a  fearful  weight 
upon  her  spirit  ? 

"Madame  d'Albret  however  remains  in  constant 
correspondence  with  Mademoiselle,  I  believe,"  he 
said  after  a  little  pause,  "and  her  majesty  is  still, 
it  is  supposed,  as  obstinate  a  Huguenot  as  ever, 
even  to  the  defying  of  his  holiness  himself." 

Charlotte  made  no  reply. 

"It  will  not  escape  Mademoiselle,"  Ruze  con 
tinued  with  his  crafty  blandness,  "that  some  slight 
suspicion  may  be  aroused  in  the  mind  of  the  holy 
father  regarding  her  own  Catholicity  if  she  con 
tinue  in  intimacy  with  so  rebellious  and  trouble 
some  a  heretic  as  Madame  d'Albret  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  flatter  myself  so  far  as  to  fancy  that 
his  holiness  takes  cognizance  of  the  motions  of  a 
demoiselle  so  insignificant  as  myself,"  replied  Char 
lotte  simply. 

"Then  allow  me  to  assure  you,  dear  lady,  that 
no  event  nor  action  of  yours  of  any  importance 
passes  without  cognizance  of  the  humble  servant 
of  his  holiness,  else  would  he  be  indeed  a  faithless 
under-shepherd." 

"  Monsieur  refers  to  himself  ?  " 

Ruze  bowed  and  proceeded  : 

"  Let  Mademoiselle  not  deceive  herself.  Innova 
tions  and  changes  have  been  already  brought  about 
in  this  convent  which  are  fully  known  by  his  holi 
ness.  If  matters  take  on  a  shade  deeper  tint,  if  by 
any  means  the  Abbess  of  Jouarre  secretly  or  openly 


io6 

wavers  in  her  allegiance  to  Holy  Church,  there  are 
means  swift  and  sufficient  to  bring  her  back  to  duty 
or  to  put  an  end  to  an  influence  not  conformable  to 
the  church's  high  interests." 

Charlotte's  color  changed  perceptibly,  but  her 
voice  did  not  tremble. 

"Monsieur  Ruze  doubtless  has  reference  to  the 
agencies  of  the  Inquisition." 

Ruze  again  bowed,  glancing  with  remorseless 
avidity  at  the  face  of  the  young  abbess  to  note  the 
effect  of  this  suggestion. 

For  a  moment  the  young  girl  turned  from  that 
look  of  malign  menace.  It  was  as  if  she  were  tak 
ing  time  fully  to  face  the  ominous  crisis,  fraught  to 
her  perchance  with  life  and  death.  But  if  for  a 
moment  she  faltered,  faith  conquered  in  the  end,  for 
it  was  with  look  fearless  and  stern  and  high,  the 
look  of  the  saint  and  the  martyr,  that  she  turned 
again  to  the  priest. 

"  Monsieur  Ruze,"  she  said,  with  incredible  calm 
ness,  "  long  ago,  when  I  was  but  a  weak,  defense 
less  child,  you  threatened  me  with  the  terrors  of  the 
church  as  you  come  to  threaten  me  now.  In  the 
crypt  of  Saint  Paul,  on  one  certain  night  you  wot 
of,  my  free  childhood  lay  slain  before  you,  slain  by 
your  own  hand.  Summoning  to  aid  you  every 
source  of  dread  and  peril,  with  a  cruelty  which  to 
this  day  seems  to  me  beyond  belief,  you  intimi 
dated  me  to  do  your  will  and  the  will  of  my  father 
although,  in  the  event,  my  life  itself  was  well-nigh 
crushed  and  was  saved  only  by  the  devotion  of  one 
old,  humble  woman.  For  what  you  did  then  you 
must  one  day  give  an  account  before  God. 

"  To-night  you  come  again,  bringing  with  you 
the  mysterious  menace  of  a  terrible  force  where 
with  you  again  hope  to  chain  and  overwhelm  my 
spirit  which  is  seeking  God  in  simplicity  and  truth. 
I  tell  you  plainly  that  you  come  in  vain.  I  am  true 
and  loyal  to  the  holy  Catholic  Church  and  hope 


IO7 

ever  TO  remain  her  dutiful  child ;  but  it  is  for  love 
of  her  holy  truth  that  I  adhere  to  her,  not  for  fear 
of  such  threats  as  these.  I  shall  obey  the  voice  of 
God,  not  the  voice  of  men.  If  the  time  should  ever 
come  that  the  machinery  of  the  Inquisition  should 
be  sought  to  be  used  against  me,  as  born  of  the 
house  and  lineage  of  Saint  Louis,  I  shall  appeal 
with  confidence  to  the  majesty  of  France  ;  but  as 
a  child  of  God  I  shall  appeal  with  a  far  greater  con 
fidence  to  my  heavenly  Father.  If  death  comes, 
believe  me,  1  can  die." 

A  change,  little  by  little,  had  come  over  the  face 
of  Jean  Ruze  as  he  listened  to  these  words  of  Char 
lotte  de  Bourbon.  He  stood  as  if  overawed,  unable 
to  remove  his  eyes  from  hers,  while  his  own  face 
grew  strangely  pallid  and  he  was  seized  with  an 
inner  trembling.  It  was  he  this  time  who  was  over 
mastered.  His  sharp  and  poisoned  weapons  had 
fallen  harmless  before  the  divine  faith  and  courage 
of  this  maiden,  and  his  own  seared  conscience  was 
pierced  by  the  memory  of  the  spiritual  violence  he 
had  done  her  innocent  childhood. 

Murmuring  a  few  half-intelligible  words  of  apol 
ogy  he  withdrew  in  strange  haste  from  the  hall  and 
betook  himself  to  the  guest  house,  where  he  passed 
a  night  of  mental  torment. 

The  following  morning  he  was,  to  his  own  sur 
prise,  summoned  to  the  presence  of  the  abbess. 

Gently,  but  with  something  of  imperiousness, 
Charlotte  de  Bourbon  laid  before  him  the  parch 
ment  on  which  was  written  the  true  and  authentic 
description  of  her  consecration  as  Abbess  of  Jouarre 
by  force  and  fraud. 

"  f^oild,  monsieur,"  she  said  coldly;  "better 
than  these  women  whose  signatures  follow,  you  are 
acquainted  with  all  that  befell  on  that  night,  and  by 
what  manner  of  device  I  was  made  sup'erieure.  You 
will  be  so  good  therefore  as  to  append  your  signa 
ture  here,"  and  bending  she  touched  a  space  on 


io8 

the  parchment,  her  eyes  fixed  full  and  steadily 
upon  the  face  of  the  priest  which  showed  in  this 
morning  light,  in  its  wan  and  sunken  aspect,  as  the 
face  of  a  craven  coward. 

He  glanced  over  the  words  of  the  document  with 
strong  effort  to  regain  the  mask  of  composure  and 
of  judicial  deliberation  which  he  usually  wore  so 
successfully. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  for  you  to  take  time  to  read 
the  paper,  I  think,  Monsieur  Ruze,"  said  Char 
lotte  ;  "  Madame  Crue  has  already  made  you 
familiar  with  its  import.  You  have  simply  to 
sign." 

Strange  reversal  of  the  relation  of  these  two,  the 
man  of  the  world,  the  facile  Jesuit,  the  experienced 
court  ecclesiastic,  and  this  simple  cloister-bred  girl  ! 

As  if  acting  without  volition  Ruze  took  the  pen 
and  signed,  then  precipitately  left  the  hall,  called 
for  his  horse  and  his  escort,  and  rode  away  from 
Jouarre  with  all  haste. 


XII 

THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  LANGE  DELFT 

ON  that  same  Bartholomew's  Day  in  which  the 
youthful  Abbess  of  Jouarre  came  to  her  own, 
two  hundred  miles  to  the  north  of  Jouarre 
the  sun  was  shining  broadly  over  the  streets  and 
squares  of  the  Zeeland  capital,  Middelburg,  the 
proud  "city  of  the  center."  Center,  indeed,  was 
the  rich  and  stately  old  town  of  its  island  of  Wal- 
cheren,  center  also  of  the  commerce  of  all  the 
North  Netherlands,  and  the  center  of  Middelburg 
was  its  ancient  Gothic  abbey,  See  of  a  bishop,  and 
scene  of  many  a  brilliant  gathering  of  Knights  of 
the  Fleece  and  great  ecclesiastic  lords. 

Important,  powerful,  opulent,  and  jealous  of  its 
rights,  Middelburg  possessed  in  the  time  of  which 
we  write  a  cosmopolitan  reputation  greater  perhaps 
than  any  of  its  sister  cities,  by  reason  of  the  foreign 
commerce  which  drew  to  it  in  force  the  trade  of 
England  and  Scotland,  of  Italy,  France,  and  Spain, 
and  which  made  merchant  princes  of  its  burghers. 
While  the  trade  of  Bruges  had  already  begun  to 
decline,  that  of  Middelburg  was  still  increasing. 

But  the  inhabitants  owed  their  wealth  and  their 
privileges  to  a  circumstance  which  bestowed  upon 
Middelburg  a  prestige  greater  and  more  enduring 
than  that  gained  by  its  commercial  prosperity.  To 
the  citizens  of  Middelburg  had  been  granted  in  1217 
the  earliest  charter  or  Keure  in  the  Dutch  language, 
the  first  charter  ever  issued  in  the  provinces  of  Hol 
land  and  Zeeland  for  protection  of  the  rights  of  life 
and  property  of  its  citizens  and  defense  of  their  lib 
erties  against  tyranny  of  kings  or  emperors. 

109 


1 10 

The  sober  dignity  of  the  burghers  of  Middelburg, 
hospitable  to  strangers,  and  yet  reticent  and  even 
impassive,  the  subdued  splendor  of  living  of  the 
heads  of  its  powerful  corporations,  notably  the 
great  wine  lords  (Wijnheeren),  the  judicial  gravity 
of  its  magistrates,  and  the  picturesque  pomp  of  its 
bishop,  all  comported  well  with  the  appearance  of 
the  city  itself. 

Circular  in  form,  it  was  builded  around  the  great 
abbey  which  enclosed  a  square  of  enormous  pro 
portions,  approached  like  a  fortress  on  all  sides  by 
a  labyrinth  of  narrow,  winding  passages  and  feudal 
arches.  The  primitive  moat,  drained  and  filled, 
had  been  converted  into  a  street  which  described  a 
perfect  circle  around  the  outermost  fringe  of  the 
abbey  limits,  and  was  known  as  the  Lange  Delft, 
or  long  ditch.  Outside  this  was  a  series  of  streets 
constructed  in  concentric  circles,  the  last  circle  be 
ing  the  stout  city  wall,  with  the  wide  blue  waters 
of  the  canal  surrounding  all  and  permitting  the  lar 
gest  ships  afloat  in  those  days  to  approach  the  com 
modious,  busy,  thronging  quays. 

The  great  market  place  of  Middelburg,  not  far 
removed  from  the  abbey  precincts,  unshaded  and  of 
enormous  dimensions,  was  upon  the  afternoon  in 
question  flooded  by  the  August  sun,  whose  beams 
scintillated  from  the  numberless  airy  pinnacles  of 
the  Gothic  Stadthuis  and  brought  out  into  bold 
relief  the  richly  canopied  statues  of  its  magnificent 
facade.  High  into  the  blue  of  the  summer  sky  rose 
the  graceful  belfry,  pierced  by  mullioned  windows 
and  flanked  by  slender  turrets.  The  clock  on  the 
belfry  showed  the  hour  of  five  and  on  the  stroke 
the  clear  carillon  of  the  Stadthuis  chimes,  familiarly 
known  by  the  name  of  "  Gekke  Betje  "  (Giddy 
Betty),  pealed  out  merrily  upon  the  heated  air. 

The  market  place  was  almost  deserted,  the 
burghers  preferring  the  coolness  of  their  shops  to 
the  heat  of  the  afternoon  sun,  but  a  tall,  young  fel- 


Ill 

low  of  eighteen,  who  was  just  turning  into  the 
Lange  Delft,  glanced  up  with  a  half-smile  of  in 
dulgent  derision  at  the  clock  in  the  belfry. 

Distinctly  seen  from  the  square,  lifting  its  lofty 
spire  far  above  the  red  and  clustering  house  roofs, 
rose  "Lange  Jan,"  the  tower  of  the  abbey  church. 
The  moments  passed  and  still  no  sound  could  be 
heard  from  its  belfry.  In  dignified  silence  it  stood 
there,  its  fine  proportions  arrayed,  it  might  almost 
seem,  in  grave  rivalry  with  the  exuberant  Renais 
sance  elegance  of  the  Stadthuis. 

Five  minutes  passed  and  then  rich  and  deep, 
with  full  sonorous  tones  the  chimes  of  Lange  Jan 
for  five  o'clock  were  heard  ringing  out  over  the 
old  abbey  roofs,  over  the  silent  market  place,  and 
the  substantial  houses  of  the  burghers.  This  inter 
val  between  the  voices  of  Gekke  Betje  and  of  Lange 
Jan  occurred  according  to  an  unbroken  custom, 
upon  which  the  younger  and  more  romantic  Middel- 
burg  folk  built  many  a  fanciful  tale,  hinging  usually 
upon  a  love  affair  between  the  noble  and  stately 
Jan  and  the  frivolous  and  impulsive  Betje. 

Several  minutes  before  the  abbey  chimes  had 
caught  up  with  their  impetuous  neighbor,  the  youth 
whom  we  have  seen  turning  from  the  market  place 
into  the  Lange  Delft  had  reached  and  entered  a 
mansion  of  a  rich  and  soberly  imposing  exterior. 
Like  all  the  burgher  dwellings  of  the  day  this  house 
stood  immediately  upon  the  street,  but  unlike  many 
of  them  it  was  approached  through  a  large  portico. 
This  portico  in  itself  gave  marked  distinction  to  the 
dwelling,  being  built  of  dark  oak  deeply  paneled  in 
the  style  which  immediately  preceded  the  Renais 
sance,  and  entirely  covered  with  rich  and  delicate 
carving.  Among  the  various  devices  of  the  signifi 
cant  ornamentation  the  initials  A.  H.  gave  token 
to  the  owner's  name.  For  the  rest  the  house  pos 
sessed  a  wide  facade  of  quartered  stone,  with  panels 
of  fine  carving  set  in  above  the  windows  of  the 


112 

ground  floor,  while  quaint  and  graceful  arabesques 
capped  the  rows  of  windows,  until  the  fifth  and 
highest  was  crowned  by  a  small  tower  of  elegant 
design  flanked  by  the  steep  battlements  of  the  roof. 

Passing  through  a  hall  lined  with  massive  chests 
and  cabinets,  Norbert  Tontorf,  for  this  was  the 
youth's  name,  opened  a  door  opposite  the  one  which 
gave  entrance  from  the  Lange  Delft,  and  stepped 
immediately  into  a  broad  sunny  courtyard  paved 
with  round  cobblestones  and  surrounded  by  build 
ings  of  brick,  of  solid  and  regular  structure  two  stor 
ies  in  height,  the  famous  printery  of  Mijnheer  Nik- 
olaas  Tontorf. 

The  red  gabled  roof  with  its  dormer  windows 
shone  warm  in  the  sun  ;  beneath  it  the  walls  were 
covered  thickly  with  a  luxuriant  grapevine  of  an 
cient  growth,  interspersed  with  the  darker  leaves 
of  the  ivy.  The  rows  of  casement  windows  stood 
wide  open,  the  shutters  with  their  painted  quarter- 
ings  swung  in  the  light  wind ;  voices  came  from 
the  interior,  and  figures  could  be  seen  as  they 
moved  to  and  fro,  or  bent  over  their  work.  A 
vaulted  passage  gave  entrance  to  a  narrow  side 
street,  and  here  several  heavy  carts  stood  awaiting 
their  unloading. 

Men  and  boys,  laborers  and  apprentices,  at  work 
around  the  carts  called  to  each  other  in  loud  and 
cheerful  voices  ;  a  flock  of  pigeons  flying  down  from 
the  roof  surrounded  a  charming  girl  of  twelve,  who 
had  corn  in  her  hands  which  she  scattered  abroad 
for  them.  The  whole  scene  was  fraught  with  busy 
life  and  contented  activity. 

Crossing  the  courtyard  with  an  occasional  salute 
to  the  apprentices,  who  doffed  their  caps  as  he 
passed  them,  Norbert  Tontorf  was  not  sorry  to 
escape  the  force  of  the  ardent  sun  as  he  stepped 
into  the  shadow  of  a  species  of  loggia,  where  an 
open  flight  of  stairs  gave  access  to  the  offices  of  the 
second  story. 


113 

The  stairway  was  massively  built  of  oak  and  the 
handrail  terminated  in  two  Zeeland  lions  rampant 
with  gilded  manes  and  tails.  At  a  little  distance 
was  a  well  from  which  young  Tontorf  paused  to 
draw  a  draught  of  sparkling  water  in  a  shallow  iron 
cup  swung  from  the  pump  by  a  rusty  chain. 

In  every  motion  of  his  well-knit  limbs  as  well  as 
in  the  frank,  sunburned  countenance,  and  in  the 
steady  gray  eyes  which  now  looked  out  over  the 
edge  of  the  broad  drinking  cup,  the  sturdy  inde 
pendent  character  of  the  lad  could  easily  be  read. 
A  shock  of  curly  yellow  hair  showed  under  the 
small  student  cap  he  wore,  cropped  close  to  a  well- 
shaped  head.  As  he  dropped  the  cup  to  go  swing 
ing  on  its  chain  he  called  to  the  young  girl  across 
the  courtyard,  in  a  ringing,  masterful  voice  : 

"  Heh,  Jacqueline  !  that  black  pigeon  is  none  of 
thine.  A  shame  to  entice  away  our  neighbor's 
fowls  to  fill  thine  own  flock  !  " 

Not  waiting  for  the  answer  which  the  girl  looked 
up  with  a  merry  defiance  to  call  back,  Norbert 
sprang  up  the  oak  stairs,  pushed  open  a  door,  and 
entered  a  low-ceiled  room  of  considerable  dimen 
sions. 

At  a  table  near  an  open  window,  through  which 
the  sunny  air  was  streaming,  sat  a  middle-aged 
matron  of  dignified  yet  winning  aspect,  and  beside 
her  a  slender  girl  with  long  flaxen  braids  of  hair, 
strongly  resembling  Norbert. 

Both  Vrouw  Tontorf  and  her  daughter  Helma 
were  bending  over  small  printed  folios  on  which 
they  were  illuminating  by  hand  initial  letters  and 
borders  of  brilliant  colors  and  lacelike  delicacy  of 
design. 

A  feminine  orderliness  and  refinement  were 
plainly  perceptible  in  all  their  appliances,  while 
both  mother  and  daughter  wore  a  certain  patrician 
aspect  in  no  way  interfered  with  by  their  artistic 
handiwork. 

H 


H4 

"Welcome,  Norbert,"  said  Vrouw  Tontorf,  look 
ing  up  from  her  work  ;  "  where  hast  thou  been  all 
these  hours  of  the  afternoon  ?  " 

"Why  dost  thou  ask,  mother?"  said  Helma 
Tontorf,  "since  Norbert  is  sure  to  have  been  at 
the  Rouenische  Kade  watching  for  an  incoming 
galleon." 

"  But  none  came  ?  "  asked  the  mother  with  falling 
cadence  as  of  repeated  disappointment. 

"  Nay,  but  Piet  Blaeser  said  the  'Fleur  d'Auxerre  ' 
might  arrive  to-night.  I  shall  therefore  go  down 
again  to  the  Kade  after  supper.  It  is  surely  high 
time  that  letter  or  message  reached  us  from  my 
father." 

Vrouw  Tontorf 's  face  betrayed  a  wearing  anxiety, 
but  it  was  Helma  who  spoke. 

"  It  is  now  two  months  and  more,  is  it  not,  since 
my  father  left  Middelburg  ?  and  many  weeks  since 
aught  of  tidings  has  reached  us." 

In  silence  Norbert  crossed  to  his  mother's  side, 
placed  his  arm  affectionately  around  her  shoulder, 
and  bent  to  kiss  her  cheek. 

"  Dear  little  moeder,"  he  said  softly,  "  I  am  not 
uneasy  ;  oh,  no,  that  is  not  at  all  what  takes  me  to 
the  Kade " 

At  that  moment  a  footfall  was  heard  on  the  stairs, 
and  the  young  Jacqueline,  the  loose  waves  of  her 
light  brown  hair  blowing  behind  her,  her  dark  eyes 
fairly  blazing  with  excitement,  burst  into  the  room, 
exclaiming : 

"The  father  has  come!  he  is  here,  safe  and 
sound  !  Hurry,  hurry,  and  greet  him  !  He  is 
awaiting  us  in  the  Gossaert-Saal  !  "  and  without 
further  pause  Jacqueline  bounded  down  the  stairs 
again. 

Vrouw  Wendelmutha  Tontorf  was  the  eldest 
daughter  of  Adolf  Hardinck,  thirty  years  earlier  a 
prominent  burgher  of  Middelburg  and  Master  of  the 
Rolls.  He  had  been  architect  and  householder  of 


the  fine  old  mansion,  and  it  was  his  initials  which 
were  still  to  be  seen  carved  in  tracery  in  the  panels 
of  the  oak  portico. 

Suspected,  with  more  or  less  reason,  of  the  Lu 
theran  heresy,  and  in  the  form  considered  most  op 
probrious,  that  of  the  followers  of  Menno  and  Hoff 
mann,  Adolf  Hardinck  fell  a  victim  to  the  edict  of 
the  tenth  of  June,  in  the  year  of  grace  1535,  having 
been  put  to  death  by  order  of  his  imperial  majesty, 
Charles  V.,  in  the  fierce  persecution  wherewith  he 
sought  to  root  out  the  first  growth  of  heresy  from 
the  Netherlands  with  fire  and  sword. 

For  what  caprice  of  carelessness  or  pity  the  rec 
ords  fail  to  show,  the  lives  of  the  wife  and  children 
of  the  Master  of  the  Rolls  of  the  free  city  of  Mid- 
delburg  were  spared,  and  their  stately  house  escaped 
confiscation. 

By  the  industry  and  genius  of  the  husband  of 
Wendelmutha,  a  prosperous  printing  establish 
ment  had  been  developed,  to  suit  the  needs  of 
which  the  house  had  been  enlarged  until  its  present 
proportions  had  beeen  reached.  The  family  resi 
dence,  however,  as  it  stood  fronting  the  Lange  Delft, 
remained  unchanged  in  its  general  aspect  since  the 
day  of  Adolf  Hardinck's  death. 

The  great  drawing  room  at  the  left  of  the  en 
trance  was  known  in  the  family  as  the  Gossaert- 
Saal,  from  a  notably  fine  portrait  of  the  Master  of 
the  Rolls,  by  the  famous  Mabuse,  which  was  rightly 
held  as  its  chief  glory.  Albeit  after  a  sober  sort 
the  room  was  splendid  and  stately,  for  in  the  re 
finements  and  luxuries  of  domestic  life  the  people 
of  the  Netherlands  at  this  time  surpassed  all  their 
contemporaries. 

The  walls  were  hung  with  Flemish  tapestry  and 
richly  wainscoted  in  black  oak  ;  the  windows  were 
blazoned  with  the  arms  of  the  Hardincks  and  Ton- 
torfs  ;  the  furniture  consisted  of  massive  tables  of 
old  walnut  of  deep,  warm  hue,  and  substantial 


carved  chairs  covered  in  leather.  Many  family  por 
traits  besides  the  Mabuse  adorned  the  walls.  Cabi 
nets  of  Dutch  oak,  and  also  of  inlaid  ebony,  held 
rare  vases  and  jars  of  old  faience  and  curious  goblets 
of  Venetian  glass  and  of  repousse  silver. 

In  front  of  the  great  carved  chimney  piece  in  the 
coolness  and  dim  rich  dusk  of  the  room  stood,  wait 
ing  to  receive  wife  and  children,  Nikolaas  Tontorf, 
Dean  of  the  Printer's  Guild  of  Middelburg,  who, 
as  the  lace  merchant  from  Brussels,  visited  Jouarre 
scarce  two  weeks  before. 

Here  in  another  moment  he  was  found  and  wel 
comed  home  with  overflowing  gladness. 

Having  refreshed  himself  with  the  delicious  food 
and  wine  brought  him  by  a  servant-woman  in 
snowy  cap  and  kerchief,  whose  delight  in  her  mas 
ter's  return  seemed  as  great  as  that  of  his  family, 
Mijnheer  Tontorf  announced  himself  ready  to  re 
count  certain  experiences  of  his  journey. 

"  1  shall  tell  you  first  of  all  that  which  took  place 
last  of  all,"  quoth  the  quondam  lace  merchant  with 
his  grave  smile  at  the  eager  and  affectionate  looks 
fixed  upon  him.  "  It  is  freshest  in  my  mind  and  it 
will  explain  why  I  have  returned  so  much  earlier 
than  I  looked  to  do. 

"You  will  recall  my  prime  purpose — to  convey 
the  Bibles  and  the  letter  of  Count  Louis  of  Nassau 
as  speedily  as  possible  to  her  majesty  of  Navarre. 
As  on  former  journeys,  I  provided  myself  with  laces 
to  produce  for  sale  as  an  ostensible  object;  and, 
pursuing  my  way  southward  toward  Nerac,  I  had 
gone  so  far  through  the  fertile  province  of  La  Brie 
as  the  ancient  walled  town  of  Coulommiers.  Here 
I  had  purposed  spending  the  night,  when  an  inci 
dent  occurred  which  caused  me  to  retrace  my  steps 
with  haste. 

"In  the  public  house  to  which  I  had  betaken 
myself,  Fritz  fell  in  at  the  table  with  a  varlet 
from  the  Abbey  of  Jouarre,  which  we  had  passed 


H7 

on  its  green  hill  above  a  little  river  on  our  way 
from  Meaux. 

"  The  fellow  appeared  to  me  a  kind  of  confiden 
tial  servant  of  the  establishment,  and  overhearing 
him  make  mention  of  her  majesty  of  Navarre,  I 
joined  myself  forthwith  to  the  pair  of  them,  and 
sent  for  a  bottle  or  two  of  red  wine,  with  which 
they  drank  my  health  cheerfully. 

"  It  soon  appeared  that  this  varlet,  Lambinot  by 
name,  had  been  sent  post-haste  with  a  letter  of 
great  importance  from  the  sub-prioress  of  the  con 
vent  at  Jouarre  to  a  priest  by  the  name  of  Ruze, 
at  Angers. 

"  Little  by  little  I  gathered  from  the  fellow,  who 
was  very  willing  to  show  his  familiarity  with  the 
affairs  of  his  abbey,  that  its  nominal  head  was  a 
demoiselle  of  but  eighteen,  a  princess  of  the  blood  ; 
while  the  sub-prioress,  Madame  Crue,  in  reality 
held  everything  in  her  own  hands — the  affairs  of 
the  young  abbess  with  the  rest. 

"  It  further  appeared  that  the  Queen  of  Navarre 
herself  was  even  then  on  a  visit  to  Jouarre,  and 
that  following  a  long  tete-a-tete  between  her  majesty 
and  her  cousin  the  abbess,  in  her  great  hall  on  the 
preceding  afternoon,  he,  Lambinot,  had  been  very 
early  that  morning  summoned  by  the  sub-prioress 
and  sent  on  his  present  errand. 

"'Oh,  you  can  lay  a  wager,'  said  the  fellow 
winking  cunningly,  '  that  Madame  Crue  lost  not  a 
syllable  of  what  their  serene  majesties  and  royal 
highnesses  had  to  say  to  each  other !  Pretty  rich 
stuff  it  was  too,  I'll  venture  to  say.  The  Queen  of 
Navarre  is  the  worst  heretic  in  France.' 

"  '  Does  the  sub-prioress  listen  at  doors  then  ? '  I 
asked  with  feigned  carelessness.  '  I  suppose  that 
is  the  fashion  of  women  in  these  convents.  What 
else  have  they  to  divert  themselves  with,  poor 
things  ? ' 

"To  this  he  replied  with  coarse  scorning:  'Nay, 


then,  master,  you  must  think  Madame  Crue  a 
clumsy,  common  sort,  little  better  than  a  serving 
wench  !  Ha,  ha  !  l/entre-saint-gris !  She  has  a 
trick  worth  two  of  that,  and  it's  Loys  Lambinot 
who  served  her  to  it  too.  Nothing  can  escape  her, 
I'll  swear  to  that.' 

"I  need  not  tell  you  that  before  the  man  was 
well  out  of  Coulommiers  our  horses  were  ready  and 
we  on  our  way  back  to  Jouarre  Abbey,  hoping  to 
be  in  time  to  have  speech  of  the  queen  and  to  de 
liver  into  her  keeping  the  letter  of  Count  Louis. 

"  I  found  a  noble  and  ancient  monastery  and  a 
kindly  reception.  With  little  delay  I  was  ushered 
with  my  lace  pack,  the  other  being  left  in  safe  hid 
ing,  into  the  abbess'  hall,  where  I  found  the  Queen 
of  Navarre  herself  and  other  ladies." 

"Oh,  father,  pray  tell  us  what  the  queen  is 
like!"  cried  little  Jacqueline  with  childish  eager 
ness. 

Mijnheer  Tontorf  looked  into  her  bright  eyes  with 
a  fond  smile. 

"The  Queen  of  Navarre  is  a  right  royal  lady, 
with  eyes  almost  as  bright  as  thine,  little  maid,  and 
a  gracious  and  noble  mien  ;  but  I  think  if  thou 
couldst  have  seen  both,  thy  eyes  would  have  dwelt 
longest  upon  the  white  abbess,  as  many  call  her, 
for  among  a  group  of  beautiful  women  she  was  in 
deed  fairest." 

"Tell  us  more  of  her,  father,"  said  Norbert, 
keenly  interested. 

"  The  Abbess  of  Jouarre  is  a  lily-like  maiden, 
tall,  graceful,  and,  although  commanding,  of  an 
exceeding  gentleness  withal.  She  has  large  shin 
ing  eyes  of  a  most  heavenly  azure,  a  proud  and 
yet  a  tender  mouth,  glinting  golden  hair  and  a  fair 
delicate  color.  She  was  clad — they  tell  me  it  is 
ever  her  custom — all  in  white,  with  little  of  the 
nun  about  her  garb  save  a  quaint  severity  of  cut. 
She  has  a  low,  quiet  voice,  and  a  smile  which  begins 


in  her  eyes  like  a  dawning.  But  you  see  I  have 
not  the  right  words  !  For  there  was  a  something 
well-nigh  celestial  and  yet  strangely  wistful  and 
pathetic  in  the  whole  aspect  of  her.  She  was 
made  abbess  at  twelve  years,  I  learn,  without  her 
mother's  consent  and  wholly  against  her  own  will." 

"  Oh,  how  terrible  !  "  murmured  Vrouw  Tontorf. 

"  I  found  at  once,"  continued  her  husband,  "  that 
the  sub-prioress,  Madame  Crue,  was  present — a 
pale-faced,  ascetic  woman,  with  thin  lips  and  sharp 
eyes.  While  the  ladies  amused  themselves  with 
the  laces  I  took  my  chance  to  observe  the  room. 
The  walls  were  solidly  lined  with  Cordova  leather, 
and  from  the  nature  of  the  situation  did  not  seem 
to  me  to  furnish  the  particular  coign  of  vantage 
from  which  I  doubted  not  Madame  Crue  must 
have  gathered  the  substance  of  her  long  letter  to 
the  priest,  Ruze. 

"  My  attention  was  soon  drawn  to  the  projecting 
wodden  mantelpiece  sheathing  the  chimney,  as 
does  this  one,  and  reaching  even  to  the  rafters 
above.  Here  was  builded  into  the  framework  an 
ancient  portrait  of  some  early  patroness  or  founder, 
I  cared  little  who,  but  noted  at  once  that  the  pic 
ture  did  not  quite  fill  its  frame,  a  narrow  gap  inter 
vening  on  the  right.  Convinced  that  I  had  dis 
covered  the  trick  of  which  Lambinot  had  made 
mention,  since  a  space  with  scant  doubt  existed 
between  the  portrait  and  the  chimney,  I  purposely 
drew  the  attention  of  Madame  Crue  to  my  scrutiny. 
I  believed  it  would  be  possible  to  discern  by  her 
countenance,  when  taken  thus  unaware,  if  this 
were  her  listeners'  gallery.  Her  changing  color 
and  evident  uneasiness  were  full  proof  to  me  of 
this,  and  I  believe  the  poor  lady  was  most  unhappy 
as  she  presently  perforce  left  the  hall  with  the 
nuns  and  ladies-in-waiting." 

"Oh,  father,  how  could  you  have  been  so  bold  ?  " 
cried  Jacqueline. 


I2O 

"What  less  could  I  do  than  come  to  the  succor 
and  protection  from  her  enemies  of  so  lovely  a 
creature  as  this  white  abbess  ?  "  asked  her  father. 

"  Left  alone  with  these  two  royal  dames,"  he 
continued,  "I  assisted  her  majesty  in  bringing  to 
light  the  contents  of  the  letter  of  the  Count  of 
Nassau,  which  being  writ  in  sensitive  ink  she  had 
well-nigh  missed.  Then  as  she  read  I  said  plainly 
to  Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon,  since  time  failed  for 
many  words : 

"  '  Madame,  you  are  watched.' 

"  '  Yes,'  she  made  answer  quite  simply  ;  '  I  have 
been  all  my  life.' 

"Then  I  spoke  of  the  man  Lambinot  and  of  my 
conjecture  as  to  the  hiding-place  of  Madame  Crue 
on  the  previous  evening,  and  was  straightway  con 
firmed  by  Madame  d'Albret,  who  had  noticed  a 
motion  of  the  ancient  picture  while  they  conversed. 
A  hasty  examination  of  a  disused  chamber  and  loft 
beyond  the  hall  showed  a  ladder  so  placed  as  to 
give  ready  access  to  the  niche  between  canvas  and 
chimney.  A  few  boards  had  been  sawed  away 
and  a  listeners'  gallery  easily  formed. 

"'All  that  we  said  yestereven  has  been  over 
heard,  then,  by  Madame  Crue  ! '  cried  Mademoiselle, 
as  we  returned  to  her  hall. 

"'Yes,'  said  her  majesty,  whose  face  showed 
deepest  anxiety,  'and  not  only  so,  but  it  is  now  in 
substance  on  its  way  to  Pere  Ruze  in  Angers.' 

"  Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon  turned  white  as 
death.  This  priest  Ruze  has  a  cruel  power  over 
her  which  he  has  cruelly  exerted  in  times  past  at 
the  will  of  her  father,  who  is  perhaps  the  harshest 
bigot  in  the  Catholic  ranks.  Cecile  Crue  forms 
the  cpnnecting  link  between  the  young  Abbess  of 
Jouarre  and,  I  fear  with  little  doubt,  the  Inquisi 
tion  itself.  Madame  d'Albret,  with  her  knowledge 
of  the  powers  at  work,  had  good  cause  for  anxious 
looks/' 


121 

Norbert  Tontorf  rose  from  his  place  and  strode 
up  and  down  the  great  room  with  compressed  lips 
and  a  flash  of  indignation  in  his  eyes. 

"  By  my  troth,"  he  cried,  "  I  believe  I  will  my 
self  make  my  way  to  that  same  Jouarre,  if  so  you 
call  it,  and  offer  my  services  in  the  defense  of  its 
lorn  and  lovely  lady.  Shame  upon  us  if  we  leave 
her  thus  defenseless  with  those  geires  swooping 
down  upon  her." 

"  Young  cavaliers  are  scarce  welcome  in  con 
vents,  my  son,"  said  Vrouw  Tontorf  with  a  smile, 
in  which  motherly  sympathy  for  the  impulse  of  the 
youth  and  amusement  at  its  irrelevance  were 
mingled.  "Continue,  my  husband.  Your  tale  is 
of  strange  interest." 

"The  position  of  the  demoiselle  is  not,  Norbert, 
wholly  without  support  or  defense,"  said  his  father 
gravely.  "The  Queen  of  Navarre  has,  as  I  had 
heard  full  often,  but  now  saw  for  myself,  a  high 
hearted  courage.  '  Fear  nothing,  little  cousin,'  she 
said,  '  our  God  will  defend  us  and  we  will  trust 
ourselves  quietly  in  his  hands.  Friends  like  Co- 
ligny  and  Conde  will  aid  me  if  need  be  in  your 
defense.  And  who  knows  ?  Perhaps  it  is  even  full 
time  for  you  to  break  wholly  and  boldly  with  this 
woman,  so  evil  and  malign,  and  yourself  be  mis 
tress  of  Jouarre,  bringing  to  naught  with  your  own 
holy  and  maiden  bravery  the  counsels  of  the  ene 
mies  of  our  Saviour.  For  myself,  I  have  met  dan 
gers  far  greater  than  this,  unscathed.  Shall  I  fear 
priests,  who  have  escaped  the  hands  of  popes  and 
kings  ?  ' 

"  With  great  calmness  she  then  said  to  me :  '  I 
learn  from  the  letter  of  my  friend,  the  young 
Count  of  Nassau,  that  it  is  you  who  have  printed 
my  letter  to  the  Cardinal  d'Armagnac.  I  learn 
also  what  precious  wares  you  have  brought  me, 
according  to  my  great  desire,  other  than  these  laces 
which  have  to-night  so  well  served  your  purpose. 


122 

Have  you  not  even  now  with  you  one  of  those  same 
Bibles  that  you  so  courageously  continue  to  print 
in  Middelburg  and  scatter  through  France  and 
Flanders  in  spite  of  the  bloody  edicts  ? ' 

"  I  drew  from  my  inner  pocket  that  volume 
which  thou,  Helma,  hast  so  carefully  illuminated. 
She  praised  its  beauty,  and  then,  kissing  the  young 
abbess  on  brow  and  lips,  and  placing  the  little  book 
between  her  hands,  said  :  '  Now,  dear  child,  let  the 
word  of  God  comfort  and  lead  thee,  and  may  the 
Lord  himself  defend  thee  with  his  own  right 
hand.'" 

The  face  of  Helma  was  radiant  with  exalted 
pleasure. 

"How  beautiful,"  she  exclaimed,  her  eyes  filling 
with  tears,  "  that  the  lovely,  lonely  young  princess 
in  that  far-away  convent  has  my  own  dear  book 
upon  which  I  worked  so  long  !  Did  she  appear  to 
prize  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  truly.  She  pressed  it  to  her  lips,  and  then 
hid  it  in  her  bosom,  and  I  thought  a  change  came 
over  her  face  ;  something  of  the  fearless  spirit  of 
Jeanne  d'Albret  was  reflected  there,  and  her  tears 
flowed  no  more.  We  spoke  then  of  my  mission  to 
Nerac,  and  the  queen  gladly  accepted  the  further 
care  of  conveying  the  packet  of  books  thither  by 
her  own  people.  They  were  to  continue  their 
journey  on  the  day  following  by  way  of  Chatillon 
in  order  to  have  brief  conference  with  Admiral 
Coligny.  The  letter  of  Count  Louis  of  Nassau 
contained  much  matter  of  importance  to  the  Hu 
guenot  interests,  and  most  opportune  it  seemed  that 
this  should  have  reached  her  majesty  before  her 
visit  to  Coligny.  She  then  and  there  hastily  wrote 
a  reply  which  I  am  presently  to  deliver.  I  hear  the 
count  is  just  now  at  Spa,  drinking  the  waters  for 
his  health,  and  holding  conference  with  Brederode 
and  other  patriotic  gentlemen  for  the  health  of  the 
country. 


123 

"  But  for  the  matter  in  hand  !  Having  thus  un 
expectedly  discharged  myself  of  my  undertaking, 
and  being  saved  the  journey  across  all  France,  to 
return  to  you  and  home  suddenly  became  a  joyful 
possibility.  Accordingly  I  set  out  not  much  later 
for  Meaux,  which  Fritz  and  1  reached,  tired  men 
with  more  tired  beasts,  at  cock-crowing  of  the 
morning. 

"Here,  by  the  favor  of  the  queen  who  sent  a 
letter  by  me,  I  was  hospitably  received  by  a  Hu 
guenot  gentleman,  the  Sieur  de  Minay,  a  serious 
and  God-fearing  man,  and  one  well  learned  in  the 
precepts  of  Maltre  Calvin.  The  morning  after  we 
journeyed  on  to  Rouen,  and  by  happy  chance  found 
the  * Fleur  d'<iAuxerre  '  ready  to  set  sail.  And  now 
what  is  new  here  ?  Are  the  placards  enforced  ?  Is 
the  regent  still  vacillating  ?  Ah,  what  is  it,  Hen- 
drika  ?  "  for  at  this  moment  the  servant  appeared 
in  the  doorway. 

"  Shall  I  bring  Mijnheer  Droust  in  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  He  asks  to  see  you,  master." 

Nikolaas  Tontorf  rose  with  an  emphatic  assent, 
and  advanced  to  meet  a  man  of  tall,  meagre  figure, 
who  now  entered  the  room.  This  person,  whose 
garments  were  of  black  and  of  great  plainness,  but 
whose  worn,  gentle  countenance  bore  the  stamp 
of  highly  developed  spiritual  faculties,  was  saluted 
with  great  respect  and  affection  by  all  the  family. 
He  was,  indeed,  the  pastor  of  the  secret  congrega 
tion  of  Middelburg  Protestants,  known  to  its  mem 
bers  under  the  mystic  name  of  the  Fleur-de-lis, 
which  held  its  nocturnal  meetings  in  an  upper  room 
of  the  Tontorf  printery. 

"I  heard  at  the  Kade,"  said  the  pastor,  "that 
Mijnheer  Tontorf  had  returned,  and  so  hastened 
hither.  May  I  have  private  speech  with  you  if  it 
be  not  an  unkindness  thus  to  withdraw  you  for  a 
half-hour  from  these  happy  people  ?  " 

Mijnheer   Tontorf    at   once   led   the  pastor   out 


124 

through  the  house  and  across  the  dark  courtyard, 
for  night  had  fallen,  to  his  own  private  office. 
This  occupied  the  space  behind  the  loggia,  where 
the  stairs  ascended  to  the  room  in  which  Vrouw 
Tontorf  and  Juffrouw  Helma  carried  on  their  dainty 
handicraft.  It  was  in  that  same  upper  room  that 
the  secret  meetings  of  the  Fleur-de-lis  were  held. 

The  pastor  and  his  host  held  long  and  earnest 
conference  regarding  the  rising  tide  of  religious  per 
secution.  Throughout  the  summer,  during  which 
Nikolaas  Tontorf  had  been  absent  from  the  Nether 
lands,  the  oppressive  measures  against  Protestants 
had  increased  in  cruelty,  until  the  agitation  among 
the  common  people  was  approaching  frenzy. 

"Here,  my  brother,"  said  Pastor  Droust,  "is  a 
placard  which  touches  you  something  nearly  : 

"  'It  is  forbidden  to  write,  to  print,  or  to  cause  to  be 
written  or  printed,  any  book  whatsoever  without  per 
mission  of  the  bishop.  If  any  one  does  so  he  shall  be 
put  in  the  pillory ;  the  executioner  shall  brand  him 
with  hot  iron,  or  he  shall  pluck  out  one  of  his  eyes,  or 
cut  off  one  of  his  hands.  For  printing  TSibles  the 
scaffold  or  the  stake  is  the  penalty.'  " 

"Nevertheless,"  said  Tontorf,  lifting  his  hand  to 
call  attention,  and  smiling  soberly,  "  you  hear  that 
sound  ?  " 

While  the  pastor  had  been  reading  a  vibration  of 
the  floor  of  the  room  where  they  sat  had  become 
perceptible,  and  with  it  from  beneath  could  now 
be  heard  a  rhythmic  beating  sound. 

The  pastor  looked  steadily  with  a  question  in  his 
eyes  at  Tontorf. 

"Nevertheless,  we  shall  print  Bibles  by  night," 
said  the  latter  quietly,  "and  scatter  them  by  day." 

"  That  being  so,"  said  Pastor  Droust,  with  a  dry 
smile,  "I  would  like  half  a  dozen  to  take  with  me 
now." 

Without  reply  Mijnheer  Tontorf  stepped  into  a 
small,  inner  room,  closing  the  door  behind  him. 


125 

Stooping,  the  printer  pushed  away  a  pile  of  dusty 
boxes,  and  touched  a  spring  in  the  wall  near  the 
floor.  Immediately,  without  noise,  a  panel  slid 
back,  disclosing  a  small  closet  piled  high  with  books. 
A  rack  of  shelves  sliding  on  strong  ropes  could  be 
drawn  up  into  this  place  from  a  similar  closet  in  the 
subterranean  pressroom,  which  was  likewise  to  be 
opened  only  by  a  secret  spring  in  an  invisible  panel. 

The  existence  of  this  depository  was  known  only 
to  Nikolaas  Tontorf  and  his  son  Norbert  and  to  the 
head  bookkeeper,  the  trusted  right  hand  of  the  great 
printer. 

A  moment  later  Mijnheer  Tontorf  returned  to  the 
side  of  Pastor  Droust.  He  handed  him  the  desired 
number  of  small,  well-bound  Bibles.  No  word  was 
spoken  by  either  until  the  pastor,  having  hidden  the 
volumes  within  his  black  surtout  and  reached  the 
outer  door,  said  : 

"  And  to-morrow  night  the  Fleur-de-lis  will  meet 
in  the  usual  place  ?  " 

"  Such  would  be  my  desire." 

"Good-night." 

As  the  pastor  emerged  upon  the  narrow  lane  from 
the  vaulted  entrance  to  the  courtyard  of  the  Tontorf 
establishment,  he  looked  cautiously  up  and  down 
in  the  darkness.  No  one  being  in  sight  he  drew 
from  his  pocket  a  bit  of  chalk,  and  on  the  rough 
surface  of  the  wall,  with  three  swift  motions  of  his 
hand,  drew  a  cross  enclosed  with  a  circle,  and  went 
his  way. 

This  was  the  signal  by  which  the  Protestants  of 
Middelburg  were  summoned  to  their  secret  and 
perilous  worship. 

Secrecy,  silence,  and  apprehension  of  betrayal 
ruled  the  day  in  every  condition  throughout  all 
Christendom,  for  alike  over  convent  and  court  and 
peaceful  burgher  dwelling  in  that  year  of  grace, 
1565,  there  brooded  a  thick  cloud  of  darkness  and 
doom. 


XIII 

NASSAU-BREDA 

WITHIN  the  vast  parallelogram  of  the  castle  of 
the  Nassaus  at  Breda,  in  the  magnificent  in 
ner  court,  stood  young  Norbert  Tontorf  in 
the  sunshine  of  an  April  afternoon. 

The  young  Middelburger,  taller,  sturdier,  more 
deeply  bronzed  by  the  two  years  which  have 
passed,  gazed  about  him  in  admiring  wonder  at  the 
Tuscan  colonnade  surrounding  the  spacious  court, 
at  the  gilded  medallions  and  lacelike  tracery  of  the 
freestone  arches,  at  the  imposing  octagonal  towers 
flanking  the  angles,  all  of  which  possessed  in  high 
degree  the  harmonious  beauty  of  the  best  period  of 
the  Renaissance.  Norbert,  who  had  until  now  seen 
no  castle  finer  than  that  of  the  abbey  at  Middel- 
burg,  no  domestic  interior  richer  than  that  of  his 
father's  house  in  the  Lange  Delft,  was  keenly  alive 
to  the  princely  grandeur  of  his  present  surround 
ings,  and  for  a  moment  he  had  well-nigh  forgotten 
the  purpose  of  his  coming. 

A  liveried  retainer,  one  of  a  dozen  who  loitered 
about  the  court,  approaching  him  with  a  question, 
the  young  fellow  collected  himself  and  with  marked, 
albeit  modest,  self-possession  made  known  his  de 
sire  to  have  audience  of  his  excellency,  the  Prince 
of  Orange,  if  he  were  minded  to  receive  him,  as  he 
brought  a  paper  which  he  had  been  commissioned 
to  deliver  into  his  hand. 

Informed  that  his  excellency  was  still  in  Antwerp, 
Norbert  asked  if  it  were  known  whether  he  would 
be  likely  to  come  to  Breda  within  a  few  days. 

The  servant  made  an  evasive  answer  and  sug- 
126 


127 

gested  that  the  jonker  should  leave  his  paper 
with  him  to  deliver.  Declining  to  do  this,  Norbert 
had  turned  on  his  heel  to  depart,  when  a  sharp  tap 
ping  on  the  window  of  a  room  beyond  the  opposite 
gallery  caught  the  attention  of  the  servant,  and 
bidding  Norbert  remain  where  he  was  yet  a  mo 
ment  he  hastened  to  cross  to  the  point  from  which 
the  sound  had  proceeded. 

The  casement  had  been  hastily  pushed  open,  and 
from  his  place  Norbert  could  now  see  the  head  and 
bust  of  a  woman  who  appeared  at  the  window. 
Something  bizarre  and  striking  in  the  effect  of  this 
personage  awoke  in  him  the  liveliest  interest.  The 
face  seen  from  this  distance  was  marked  by  a  pair 
of  flashing  dark  eyes,  and  features  irregular  but 
animated,  the  mouth  being  full,  flexible,  and  ex 
pressive  of  pride,  impatience,  and  impetuous  will. 
A  richly  jeweled  coif  and  a  broad  ruff  turned  away 
in  a  point  from  the  throat  completed  the  picture 
framed  in  the  window. 

Greatly  to  his  amazement  Norbert  now  heard 
this  lady  soundly  rating  the  servant  in  a  harsh, 
metallic  voice. 

"What  mean  you,  you  fat-witted  clown,  by 
sending  away  messengers  without  consulting  your 
mistress  ?  I  will  have  you  discharged  if  such  a 
thing  happen  again.  Who  is  yonder  dammarel  ? 
He  is  of  goodly  bearing,  and  I  would  fain  have 
speech  with  him  and  learn  his  errand.  What  say 
you  is  his  name  ?  " 

"Your  excellency,  I  do  not  know  the  young 
man's  name.  He  is  a  stranger  in  Breda,  and  as  I 
think  by  his  speech,  from  the  North,"  said  the  serv 
ant  respectfully. 

"Which  means  that  he  is  a  shade  worse  churl 
than  if  he  were  from  the  South,"  returned  his  mis 
tress.  "  In  any  case,  send  him  in  hither,  Joost. 
He  may  amuse  me,  and  i'faith  there  is  scant  amuse 
ment  in  this  dreary  place." 


128 

The  servant  hastened  back  and  now  conducted 
Norbert  through  the  colonnade,  its  walls  resplendent 
with  rich  gilding  and  brilliant  escutcheons  of  the 
great  seigneuries  of  Breda,  Orange,  Holland,  Zee- 
land,  and  others  of  which  the  prince  was  the  lord. 
From  this  cloister  the  youth  was  led  by  a  second 
lackey  into  the  castle  and  through  a  series  of  gal 
leries  of  royal  stateliness  in  which  groups  of  gentle 
men  and  ladies  were  listlessly  lounging. 

Passing  down  the  length  of  a  salon  which  glit 
tered  in  crystal  and  silver,  they  reached  at  last  a 
small  boudoir  separated  by  hangings  of  magnificent 
tapestry  from  the  salon  and  decorated  wholly  in 
gold  and  crimson. 

Stepping  under  the  hangings  the  servant  now 
ushered  Norbert,  whose  heart  beat  hard  with  ex 
citement,  into  the  presence  of  the  Princess  of 
Orange,  and  left  him  alone  to  sustain  an  interview 
for  which  he  had  neither  taste  nor  training. 

Reclining  in  a  great  arm-chair  sat  the  lady  whom 
he  had  seen  but  now  in  the  window  and  who  was, 
as  he  had  already  concluded,  albeit  with  great 
amazement,  none  other  than  the  wife  of  the  prince, 
the  daughter  of  "the  great  elector,"  Maurice,  of 
Saxony. 

Dressed  in  a  gown  of  vivid  green  satin  with 
bands  of  rich  embroidery  much  soiled  and  fretted, 
her  small  feet  crossed  upon  a  footstool  in  a  careless 
attitude,  her  dark  eyes  half  veiled  now  by  the  lids, 
a  green  parrot  perched  upon  her  shoulder,  a  fan  in 
her  hand  which  she  flirted  nervously  at  the  parrot, 
the  princess  made  a  yet  more  equivocal  impression 
upon  the  young  Zeelander,  than  when  seen  from 
the  distance.  Accustomed  to  the  most  delicate 
orderliness  in  dress,  and  the  most  demure  propriety 
in  bearing  among  the  women  of  his  own  household 
and  acquaintance,  Norbert  was  almost  bewildered 
by  the  fantastic  freedom  of  the  great  lady. 

"  Come  hither,  jonker,"  she  cried,  now  abruptly 


I29 

"why  stand  you  bowing  there  on  the  threshold 
as  if  you  were  afraid  of  me  ?  I  am  only  a  young 
woman  after  all,  and  since  I  have  sent  for  you, 
you  can  e'en  make  bold  enough  to  come  hither 
and  kiss  my  hand,"  and  she  laughed  shrilly. 

Accordingly  Norbert  now  advanced,  knelt  and 
kissed  the  hand  outstretched  to  him  for  the  pur 
pose,  and  as  he  rose  he  received  the  unexpected 
comment: 

"  Very  fairly  done,  jonker,  for  a  country  lad  1 
You  may  make  quite  a  gallant  if  you  remain  long 
enough  in  our  court  here  in  Breda." 

"Your  pardon,  madame,"  said  Norbert,  looking 
down  respectfully  on  the  princess,  but  with  a  little 
flush  of  distaste  showing  in  his  sun-burned  cheeks, 
"  but  I  am  no  jonker,  but  the  son  of  a  good  burgher 
of  Middelburg,  Nikolaas  Tontorf,  dean  of  the  Guild 
of  Printers." 

"  Oh,  that  is  unlucky.  How  do  you  come  by  so 
elegant  a  shape,  young  Sir  Printer,  and  so  possessed 
a  bearing  ?  In  good  sooth  I  have  hardly  seen  so 
knightly  a  figure  since  I  came  among  these  Flemish 
boors,"  and  she  flashed  a  smile  of  flattering  co 
quetry  at  the  young  man,  whose  amazement  in 
creased  with  every  word. 

A  flask  of  wine  in  a  silver  standard,  together  with 
a  bowl  of  white  sugar  broken  in  pieces,  and  several 
crystal  goblets,  stood  on  a  small  table  near  the 
chair  of  the  princess.  She  rose  now  and  going  to 
this  table  filled  two  glasses.  Norbert  noted  the 
curious  awkwardness  of  her  shape,  and  of  her  halt 
ing  gait  which  had  not  hitherto  been  apparent  to 
him.  He  waited  uneasily  for  what  would  follow. 

Holding  out  one  of  the  glasses  which  he  took 
from  her  hand  perforce,  she  said  : 

"  I  will  not  send  you  away  unrefreshed,  my  lad, 
though  you  have  the  ill  luck  to  be  the  son  of  a 
printer.  What  is  your  errand  to  my  lord  ?  " 

As  she  carelessly  asked  the  question  the  princess 
i 


130 

was  dipping  a  piece  of  sugar  into  her  glass  of  wine 
with  which  she  proceeded  to  feed  the  green  parrot 
on  her  shoulder,  unheeding  the  syrupy  drops  which 
trickled  down  on  her  gown  and  fingers. 

"  I  have  a  paper,  so  it  please  your  highness,  to 
deliver  into  his  hand,"  replied  Norbert. 

"  I  trust  it  is  none  of  these  tiresome  petitions 
and  manifestoes  wherewith  we  are  fairly  flooded," 
said  the  lady  lightly.  Then  with  a  sudden  sharpness 
she  asked  :  "  Are  you  a  Protestant  ?  " 

"Yes,  madame,"  replied  Norbert  sturdily. 

"  The  worse  luck  for  you,"  answered  the  Protes 
tant  princess,  turning  to  the  parrot  and  adding  non 
chalantly,  "  let  me  tell  you,  now  while  you  are 
young  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  not  so  stubborn  as  you 
Dutchmen  come  to  be  when  you  are  older,  get  rid 
of  all  this  nonsense  about  Protestantism  and 
Catholicism.  The  quicker  the  better !  It's  all  a 
miserable  mish-mash.  It  makes  no  difference  which 
you  are  in  the  end.  Be  what  is  easy  to  be  and 
change  as  often  as  it  is  necessary.  Above  all 
things,  don't  get  this  foolish  notion  of  dying  for  your 
religion  into  your  head." 

The  princess  leaned  back,  tapping  the  beak  of  the 
bird  on  her  shoulder  with  her  fan  while  she  lux 
uriously  sipped  the  delicious  wine  and  glanced  over 
the  edge  of  the  goblet  with  a  satirical  smile  of  en 
joyment  at  the  evident  perplexity  of  Norbert. 

"  Madame,"  said  the  young  fellow,  who  liked  his 
company  less  and  less  and  yet  found  a  curious 
fascination  in  the  lady's  bright  smiles  and  caressing 
glances,  "if  it  please  your  highness  to  excuse  me, 
I  have  matters  yet  to  attend  to  ere  nightfall " 

"  Go  to,  go  to,  now,  my  young  Tontorf,  if  that  be 
your  name  !  you  like  not  my  rede  overmuch,  I  see, 
and  find  the  society  of  the  castle  unlike  that  of 
your  bourgeois  gossips.  You  must  learn  to  wait 
upon  a  lady's  pleasure  and  never  to  anticipate  her 
dismissal.  But,  hark  !  What  is  that  ?  "  and  hastily 


setting  her  glass,  which  was  now  empty,  upon  the 
table,  the  Princess  of  Orange  crossed  to  the  win 
dow  overlooking  the  courtyard. 

Norbert  stood  where  she  had  left  him,  biting  his 
under  lip  in  vexation  and  wishing  himself  well  out 
of  the  presence.  Sounds  of  hoofs  on  the  courtyard 
pavement  without  now  reached  him,  giving  token 
of  the  arrival  of  a  considerable  company.  Anne 
of  Saxony  turned  toward  him  from  the  window 
and  nodded  blithely  : 

"Forty  horsemen  at  least,  I  should  say,"  she 
cried.  In  another  moment  she  turned  again  : 

"  Yes,  boy,"  she  said,  laughing,  "  run  along  now. 
It  is  my  lord  himself,  ridden  all  the  way  from 
Antwerp,  and  he  looks  vexed  and  gloomy  e'en 
now.  What  might  he  say  should  he  discover  that 
I  was  en  tete-a-tete  with  a  handsome  young  gallant  ? 
Do  thy  errand  another  time.  My  lord  will  be  in  no 
mood  for  thee  to-day,  that  I  see  plainly." 

Norbert,  waiting  for  no  second  bidding,  made 
haste  to  leave  the  apartment  and  to  reach  the 
courtyard.  Crossing  this  he  caught  a  glimpse  in 
passing  of  a  gentleman  just  dismounted  of  com 
manding  figure  and  presence,  with  face  grave  and 
preoccupied,  whom  he  surmised  to  be  none  other 
than  that  exalted  personage  to  whom  the  document 
in  his  pocket  was  addressed  as  : 

Lord  and  Baron  of  Breda,  Burgrave  of  Antwerp, 
Governor  General  of  Holland,  Zecland,  and  Utrecht, 
Count  of  Nassau  and  Cat^enellenbogen,  etc.,  etc.,  in 
fine,  the  puissant  Prince  of  Orange  himself. 

At  the  outer  entrance  to  the  castle  court  Norbert 
encountered  the  retainer  who  had  been  his  guide. 
The  man  greeted  him  with  the  question  : 

"  Holloa,  Master  Middelburger,  how  came  you 
off  ?  Did  my  lady  kiss  you  or  curse  you  ?  " 

"Neither  the  one  nor  yet  the  other,"  Norbert 
made  laughing  answer. 

"You  are  the  lucky  man,  then,"  was  the  rejoin- 


132 

der,  and  Norbert  went  his  way  back  into  the  town, 
where  he  was  lodging  with  his  sister,  Jacqueline, 
in  the  house  of  their  father's  sister,  Vrouw  Van 
Marie. 

The  commission  on  which  he  had  been  sent  by 
his  father  and  other  patriotic  citizens  of  Middelburg 
to  the  Prince  of  Orange,  was  one  of  more  than 
passing  importance,  and  the  young  man  was  him 
self  deeply  imbued  with  its  purpose. 

The  year  1567  was  one  of  greatest  crisis  and  up 
heaval  in  the  Netherlands.  The  Inquisition,  now 
thoroughly  established,  was  spreading  its  terrors 
everywhere,  but  the  iconoclastic  fury  of  the  Ant 
werp  mob  and  the  petition  of  "the  Beggars," 
showed  the  king  of  Spain  that  the  spirit  of  revolt 
was  stirring  alike  the  high  and  low.  In  boundless 
rage,  Philip  resolved  upon  a  fearful  and  summary 
punishment. 

In  pursuance  of  his  plan,  an  army  of  splendid 
organization  and  discipline,  veterans  of  Spain,  under 
the  merciless  Alva,  was  even  now  marshaling  at 
Genoa  and  preparing  for  its  long  march  across 
Europe  into  the  Netherlands.  Alva  was  to  super 
sede  the  Duchess  of  Parma  as  governor  general. 
The  black  death  itself  could  not  be  dreaded  as  a 
more  awful  scourge  than  were  Alva  and  his  army. 

A  personal  and  immediate  test  of  the  absolute 
fealty  of  the  Netherlandish  nobles,  and  of  their  will 
ingness  to  uphold  the  Inquisition,  was  meanwhile 
made  by  Philip  in  the  following  oath  of  allegiance, 
which  every  Knight  of  the  Fleece  was  imperatively 
required  by  his  sovereign  to  sign  : 

"As  the  king,  our  sire,  in  consideration  of  the 
troublous  times  and  of  the  rebellious  spirit  that  is 
abroad  in  the  land  has  charged  Madame,  the  Duchess 
of  Parma  and  Governor  General  of  these  lands  in  his 
Majesty's  behalf,  to  demand  a  declaration  from  every 
person  in  office  as  to  his  intention  to  carry  out  his 
Majesty's  will  without  limitation  or  restriction, 


133 

/ Knight  of  the  Order,  etc.,  hav 
ing  received  the  said  command,  now  declare  by  oath 
that  I  am  ready  to  serve  him  and  to  carry  out  his 
orders  to  all  persons  without  limitation  or  restric 
tion." 

It  had  become  known  to  Nikolaas  Tontorf  that 
the  Prince  of  Orange,  at  the  time  representing  the 
regent  in  Antwerp,  which  was  a  very  hotbed  of 
troubles,  had  refused  to  take  this  oath,  had  resigned 
his  commission,  and  had  withdrawn  his  young 
daughter,  Marie,  from  the  court  of  the  duchess  at 
Brussels. 

Although  Catholic  and  supposedly  attached  to 
the  government,  the  profound  penetration  and  mod 
erate  views  of  Orange,  his  enormous  popularity 
with  the  people,  his  great  political  power  and  vast 
wealth  made  him  the  only  man  who  by  any  possi 
bility  could  lead  the  patriot  forces  of  the  Nether 
lands  in  a  revolutionary  movement  against  the  in 
tolerable  tyranny  of  Spain. 

Fired  by  the  hope  that  the  prince  might  at  the 
moment  be  accessible  to  such  a  proposition,  Ton 
torf  and  certain  of  his  fellow-patriots  in  Zeeland 
had  addressed  a  fervent  letter  of  appeal  to  him  to 
place  himself  immediately  at  their  head  and,  in  the 
four  months  which  must  yet  intervene  before  the 
arrival  of  Alva,  to  organize  and  train  the  forces  of 
the  opposition. 

Such  was  the  letter,  such  the  appeal  which  young 
Tontorf  had  come  to  Breda  to  deliver  to  the  Prince 
of  Orange. 

Meanwhile  the  prince,  having  retired  to  his  pri 
vate  apartments  to  refresh  himself  after  the  dusty 
ride  from  Antwerp,  appeared  presently  in  the  grand 
salon  of  the  castle,  where  with  looks  alert  and  ex 
pectant  the  gentlemen  and  ladies  of  his  suite  were 
gathered,  awaiting  his  coming. 

Eight  years  have  passed  since  that  June  which 
saw  the  prince  the  hostage  and  guest  of  Henry  II. 


134 

at  Vincennes.  The  brilliant  youth  has  become  the 
powerful  diplomat,  the  foremost  statesman  of  the 
Court  of  Brussels,  the  man  of  all  men  in  the 
Netherlands  whom  the  King  of  Spain  must  reckon 
with. 

Dressed  now  in  a  court  costume  of  blue  and  sil 
ver,  with  a  broad,  transparent  ruff,  his  orders  on 
his  breast,  his  face  somewhat  grave  and  careworn 
by  the  sleepless  anxieties  of  the  present  time,  but 
still  gracious  and  commanding,  the  prince  turned 
from  one  to  another  with  a  brief  word  to  each,  the 
courtly  grace  of  his  manner,  the  winning  sweet 
ness  of  his  expression  exerting  the  same  spell  that 
had  been  so  potent  in  his  younger  years.  Every 
lady  was  eager  to  commend  herself  to  his  notice 
by  the  brightness  of  her  smile,  every  gentleman 
of  his  suite  sought  to  hold  himself  with  the  knightly 
firmness  of  his  lord,  and  thus  a  sudden  revival  of 
energy  and  animation  possessed  the  company,  but 
now  so  dull  and  lack-lustre.  The  prince  did  not 
linger  long,  however,  but  hastened  on  to  present 
himself  to  his  wife. 

As  he  entered  the  boudoir  at  the  end  of  the 
salon  a  motion  of  his  hand  summoned  a  servant, 
who  at  once  dropped  a  heavy  curtain  until  now 
drawn  aside,  thus  indicating  the  desire  for  privacy. 
The  salon  adjoining  was  then  quickly  forsaken  by 
the  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  attendance  and  the 
prince  was  left  alone  with  his  wife.  She  sat  where 
she  had  sat  to  receive  young  Tontorf,  nor  did  she 
rise  from  her  seat  to  receive  her  husband,  but  he 
advanced  unheeding  this  and  bent  to  kiss  her  with 
words  of  gentle  solicitude  for  her  health  and  com 
fort. 

The  wine  flask  on  the  table  stood  empty  now. 
The  green  parrot  had  retired  to  a  perch  in  the  cor 
ner  of  the  boudoir,  where  it  sat  with  filming,  stupid 
eyes  and  ruffled  plumage. 

"What  excitement  have  you  in   Antwerp  this 


135 

time,  monsieur  ?  "  asked  the  princess  coolly,  the 
first  greeting  over ;  "  fresh  riots  and  insurrections  ? 
You  are  at  least  alive,  it  seems." 

"  Antwerp  has  been  quiet,"  returned  the  prince, 
"and  I  have  had  leisure  more  than  I  liked  even  to 
confer  with  the  regent's  secretary." 

"Oh,  then,  you  have  consented  to  see  Master 
Berty  again  !  I  hope  you  will  tell  me  that  this  time 
you  have  listened  to  reason." 

The  prince  smiled  slightly,  but  did  not  reply. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  monsieur,  answer  me  !  " 
cried  Anne,  her  voice  shrill  with  sudden  excite 
ment.  "  Have  you  at  last  taken  that  tiresome 
oath  and  ended  all  the  coil  ?  " 

"  No,  dear  child,"  said  Orange  gently,  "  I  cannot 
take  an  oath  which  might  oblige  me  to  use  harsh 
measures  first  of  all  against  my  own  wife  because 
she  is  Protestant.  You  hardly  wish  me  to  do  that, 
I  think  ?  " 

As  he  asked  the  question  the  prince  was  stand 
ing  before  his  wife,  looking  down  into  her  face. 
He  noted  with  a  dull  pang  the  careless,  wine- 
stained  dress,  the  flushed  face  and  unsteady  hands, 
more  than  all,  the  coarse  defiance  on  the  full,  sen 
sual  lips.  Never  had  her  aspect  been  so  heedless 
or  so  repellent  to  him  as  at  this  moment,  when  he 
was  at  a  crisis  of  all  his  worldly  fortunes,  which 
should  have  appealed  supremely  to  her  sympathy 
and  solicitude. 

"You  are  aware,  my  wife,"  he  said  slowly, 
repressing  his  distaste  for  further  converse,  "that 
soon  now  we  shall  have  the  Duke  of  Alva  to  deal 
with  in  place  of  the  Duchess  of  Parma." 

"What  do  I  care  for  Alva  ?  "  cried  Anne,  with  a 
toss  of  her  head,  "  let  me  have  just  one  chance  at 
him  and  see  who  will  win  !  I  would  like  nothing 
better  than  to  try  my  hand  with  a  man  of  his 
mettle.  He  would  be  game  worth  hunting,"  and 
she  laughed  with  absurd  complacence. 


136 

The  prince  looked  at  her  in  grave  wonder.  Was 
she  in  very  deed  so  infatuated  as  to  suppose  that 
her  charms  were  sufficient  to  subdue  the  iron  duke 
and  to  turn  aside  from  her  his  fanatical  purpose  ? 
Or  was  all  this  bravado  the  effect  of  the  wine  she 
had  been  drinking  ? 

"  Has  Aerschot  taken  the  oath  ?  "  she  now  asked 
abruptly. 

"Yes." 

"And  Berlaymont  and  Mansfeld — have  they?  " 

"  Both,  madame." 

"Ah,  by  my  faith,  then  they  are  less  fearsome 
than  my  lord  ! "  with  which  taunting  comment 
she  rose  from  her  place  and  began  to  pace  the 
room  with  her  halting,  irregular  steps,  Orange 
standing  the  while,  his  arms  crossed  upon  his 
breast,  his  eyes  fixed  straight  before  him,  his  lips 
slightly  compressed. 

"  Egmont — he  was  not  faint-hearted,  I'll  wager. 
He  was  ever  a  soldier.  He  signed,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Egmont  has  taken  the  oath,  madame,"  was  the 
steady  reply,  the  insult  passing  unmarked. 

Anne's  face  grew  crimson,  and  her  eyes  flashed 
stormily. 

"  I'll  warrant  he  has  !  "  she  cried,  her  voice  ris 
ing  almost  to  a  scream,  for  her  jeaJousy  of  the  wife 
of  Egmont  amounted  well-nigh  to  mania.  "  My 
Lady  Egmont  then  can  brave  it  out  at  court  more 
gayly  than  ever,  with  no  one  to  give  her  the  lessons 
she  needs  for  her  brazen  impudence." 

"I  greatly  fear  me,  madame,"  said  Orange, 
wholly  unimpassioned  but  with  a  deeper  serious 
ness  than  he  had  shown  before,  "  that  the  Countess 
Egmont  will  have  but  brief  time  for  gayety.  The 
court  of  Alva  will  be  something  grim  methinks, 
and  the  shadow  may  fall  soonest  on  the  lightest 
hearts." 

"  Oh,  prate  not  to  me  of  your  fears  and  doubts  ! " 
cried  his  wife,  who  stood  now  confronting  him  with 


137 

fiery  eyes,  her  hands  unconsciously  opening  and 
closing  her  fan  with  incredible  rapidity.  "  I  have 
heard  enough  of  monsieur's  fears.  Have  the  good 
ness  to  let  me  hear  his  purposes.  Where  am  I  to 
be  taken,  since  we  are  now  to  play  the  part  of  cow 
ards  and  run  away  from  the  new  regime?  " 

"We  shall  all  depart  within  a  week  for  Dillen- 
burg,"  said  the  prince  as  quietly  as  before.  "  My 
dear  mother  and  my  brother  John  have  large 
hearts  and  hospitality,  and  have  bidden  me  make 
their  castle  our  home  until  the  troubles  are  over." 

"  Dillenburg  !  "  shrieked  Anne,  and  burst  into  a 
wild  volley  of  derisive  laughter.  "  Dillenburg  !  The 
daughter  of  the  great  elector  is  to  take  her  place 
now  forsooth  as  a  guest  on  sufferance  of  a  family 
of  commoners!  On  my  honor,  my  lord,  this  is 
carrying  things  too  far !  Not  a  step  will  I  go  to 
Dillenburg  !  I  did  not  marry  a  petty  squire  of  Nas 
sau.  I  was  made  to  believe  at  least  that  my  con 
sort  was  a  sovereign  prince,  and  I,  poor  gull,  fancied 
in  him  the  heart  and  courage  of  a  prince,"  and 
almost  beside  herself  in  her  paroxysm  of  envenomed 
fury,  Anne  tore  the  fan  in  her  hand  in  twain  and 
broke  the  slender  sticks  to  slivers. 

The  prince  watched  her  for  an  instant  with 
speechless  sadness.  When  her  rage  began  to  abate 
in  part  he  said,  sternly  : 

"Madame,  to  confer  with  you  is  impossible. 
Much  as  I  regret  it  I  am  forced  instead  to  command. 
You  will  prepare  yourself  and  our  children  for  the 
journey,  and  give  such  orders  in  the  household  as 
are  necessary,  looking  to  our  departure  a  week 
hence.  Adieu,"  and  he  turned  and  left  the  room. 

No  sooner  had  the  curtain  fallen  upon  him,  than 
Anne  threw  herself  in  a  passion  of  tears  into  the 
arm-chair.  She  was  subdued  and  controlled  at  last 
by  the  strong  mastery  of  her  husband's  nature,  the 
nobility  of  which  was  at  all  times  a  source  of  irri 
tation  to  her  by  reason  of  its  contrast  with  her  own 


138 

petty  and  sordid  selfishness.  Hating  him  in  some 
moods,  there  were  others  in  which  this  strangely  or 
ganized  woman  could  gladly  have  thrown  herself 
in  servile  fawning  at  his  feet. 

As  he  passed  through  the  great  salon  adjoining 
his  wife's  boudoir,  a  young  girl,  tall  and  slender, 
with  the  deep  brown  eyes  and  the  aristocratic  grace 
of  person  of  the  prince,  advanced  swiftly  to  meet 
him  with  a  smile  of  radiant  sweetness. 

"Ah,  little  daughter  Marie,"  he  said  low  and 
fondly  as  he  kissed  her,  "  thou  hast  returned  to  be 
sure.  What  a  heart's  ease  is  the  sight  of  thee  to 
a  weary  man  !  " 

No  word  told  of  the  heart-sickening  reception  he 
had  encountered  at  the  hands  of  Marie's  step 
mother,  but  the  child  had  weathered  full  many  a 
storm  of  like  nature,  and  understood. 

"  We  go  all  together  to  Dillenburg  in  a  few  days, 
Marie,"  said  the  prince,  holding  the  young  girl  ten 
derly  against  him,  and  pressing  his  lips  upon  her 
forehead,  as  if  the  contact  with  her  delicate  purity 
were  a  source  of  refreshment  to  body  and  spirit. 
"  Will  the  change  be  irksome  after  the  gay  life  thou 
hast  led  in  the  attendance  upon  the  duchess  ?  " 

"Nay,  father  dear,"  cried  the  maiden,  "I  am 
most  joyful  to  think  that  at  last  I  shall  see  my  dear 
grandmother,  and  all  the  uncles  and  cousins  of 
whom  I  have  heard  so  much  and  seen  so  little. 
Dillenburg  will  be  far,  far  better  than  Brussels.  I 
have  never  liked  the  court  overmuch,  and  as  for 
the  duchess " 

The  prince  placed  his  finger  on  her  lips  and  shook 
his  head  in  playful  warning. 

"  Nay,  little  daughter,  speak  not  over  freely  of 
those  in  authority.  Silence  is  safest,"  he  said,  and 
smiled. 

A  little  later,  in  the  princely  banqueting  hall  of 
the  castle,  William  of  Orange  took  his  place  at  the 
head  of  his  table,  surrounded  by  the  gentlemen  and 


139 

ladies  of  his  suite.  The  absence  of  the  princess 
was  so  common  an  occurrence  as  to  pass  without 
remark.  The  supper  was  served  with  more  than 
royal  magnificence  on  gold  plate  of  marvelous  rich 
ness,  while  the  cookery  was  a  miracle  of  perfec 
tion.  The  attendants  were  exclusively  pages  of 
noble  birth,  one  of  whom  presented  the  napkin  to 
the  prince  as  he  sat  down  with  graceful  ceremony. 
With  the  superb  self-mastery  which  won  for  him 
his  name,  the  prince  banished  on  this  occasion,  the 
eve  of  a  crucial  turning-point  in  his  life,  every 
trace  of  anxiety  and  every  shade  of  disturbance, 
and  led  the  conversation  with  the  grace  and  charm 
for  which  he  was  throughout  his  life  distinguished. 


XIV 

THE  GREAT  REBEL 

"  A  ND  you  have  already  written  a  final  letter  to 

/\     the  king  ?  " 

It  was  a  young  cavalier  clad  in  light 
armor,  a  man  of  slender,  spirited  figure,  with  fair 
hair,  flashing  blue  eyes  and  clear-cut  features,  who 
spoke  thus  to  the  prince  on  the  following  morning. 
They  sat  together  in  the  cabinet  of  Orange  in  the 
castle  at  Breda. 

"Yes,  Louis.  The  duel  is  begun.  My  letter 
went  by  special  post  from  Antwerp  two  days 
since." 

The  prince  spoke  freely  and  without  restraint,  for 
the  young  soldier,  who  listened  with  kindling  and 
responsive  face,  was  Count  Louis  of  Nassau,  his 
best-beloved  younger  brother,  just  arrived  with  let 
ters  and  dispatches  from  Germany. 

"I  told  his  majesty,"  continued  the  prince, 
"  that  to  take  the  new  oath  was  for  me  impossible, 
and  that  I  had  therefore  no  choice  but  to  withdraw 
from  his  active  service,  while  I  should  always  re 
main  his  loyal  servant  in  all  which  I  believed  could 
rightly  promote  his  cause." 

"  Bold  words  and  fearless,  but,  as  you  say,  final." 

"  Most  surely.  They  constitute  me,  from  his 
majesty's  point  of  view,  a  rebel." 

"  And  such  you  are,"  said  Louis,  with  the  accent 
of  solemn  but  welcome  conviction.  The  day  for 
which  he  had  waited  long  was  come  at  last. 

"  And  such  I  am,"  repeated  the  prince,  rising  and 
pacing  the  room,   his  face  full   of  intense  mental 
concentration. 
140 


"  I  have  sought  for  half  a  dozen  years  to  hold  a 
•via  media,"  he  said  slowly,  "to  bring  to  some  com 
mon  ground  the  will  of  the  king  and  the  liberties 
of  the  people,  to  serve  the  one  while  protecting  the 
other.  But  the  time  is  over  for  such  efforts  and 
such  hopes.  Both  king  and  people  have  reached 
the  verge  of  an  open  and  irreconcilable  rupture. 
The  conflict  is  even  now  on,  for  Alva  has  already 
started  on  his  march.  The  time  for  temporizing 
and  middle  courses  is  past.  It  is  war  to  the  knife 
now,  or  abject  submission  to  an  infernal  tyranny." 

"  The  last  it  cannot  be  ;  but  who  shall  lead  this 
people  in  their  righteous  cause,  my  brother  ?  Con 
sider  their  helplessness,"  and  the  eyes  of  Louis 
were  fixed  on  the  strong  face  of  his  brother  with 
fervent  appeal. 

"  To  lead  them  against  the  greatest  military 
power  of  Europe,  without  other  resource  than  the 
land  itself  can  give,  is  only  to  throw  one's  self  reck 
lessly  into  a  bottomless  abyss,  as  did  the  hapless 
young  Marnix  of  Thoulouse  last  month,"  replied 
the  prince.  "  If  the  Protestants  of  France,  of  Ger 
many,  or  of  England,  will  join  with  us,  something 
may  yet  be  done." 

"  As  I  live,  something  shall  be  done  !  "  cried  the 
younger  brother  impulsively,  "  and  that  right  early. 
It  is  for  this  cause  that  I  am  here  at  this  moment 
with  that  letter  from  the  landgrave  which  you  have 
not  yet  read,  and  why  two  hours  hence  I  must  be 
galloping  on  toward  Cleves.  I  ride  and  I  ride,  from 
camp  to  court,  and  from  the  Calvinists  of  France  to 
the  Lutherans  of  Germany,  if  by  any  means  I  can 
win  some  to  our  side." 

A  smile  in  which  was  an  unmistakable  touch  of 
weariness  passed  over  the  face  of  Orange. 

"  The  Calvinists  deplore  your  Lutheran  sympa 
thies  and  the  Lutherans  give  you  excellent  advice 
and  copious  draughts  of  theology,  but  they  tell  you 
that  their  consciences  forbid  their  aiding  our  people 


142 

while  they  persist  in  following  the  errors  of  Calvin. 
Is  it  not  so  ?  Without  the  Augsburg  Confession  we 
would  better  die  than  live.  That  is  the  old  story. 
How  well  I  know  it.  While  our  helpless  people  are 
being  butchered  and  burned  by  the  hundred,  and 
whole  towns  laid  level  with  the  ground,  those  fel 
low-Protestants,  fellow-Christians,  will  stand  aloof 
and  argue  points  of  theology,  split  hairs  too  fine  to 
see,  instead  of  coming  in  hearty  brotherhood  to 
their  defense.  Ah,  my  Louis,  I  may  not  be  an 
over-rigid  Catholic,  but  I  protest  to  you  these  fine 
distinctions  and  endless  wars  of  words  between 
the  various  groups  of  the  Protestants  make  a  man 
think  twice  before  he  leaves  the  old  for  the  new. 
Why  can  they  all  not  unite  in  one  body  ?  Their 
differences  are  not  great  enough  to  divide  them." 

"  So  it  seems  to  us,  my  brother  ;  but  these  con 
victions  are  honest  and  deep  with  those  who  hold 
them  and  we  must  have  patience." 

"Yes,  patience  without  end,"  said  the  prince 
with  strong  emphasis  ;  "  and  by  my  faith  we  shall 
have  need  of  all  we  can  muster  before  we  see  this 
matter  through  to  a  close  ;  but  I  give  you  warning, 
and  through  you  to  all  the  forces  of  the  Protestant 
faith  with  which  you  are  ever  in  touch,  never,  never 
shall  one  feather's  weight  of  my  influence  go  toward 
building  up  a  new  tyranny  in  place  of  the  old.  A 
Protestant  despotism  is  not  a  whit  better  than  a 
Catholic,  and  if  I  read  aright  these  endless,  petty 
bickerings,  it  might  prove  even  more  contemptible. 
There  is  room,  my  brother,  on  this  broad  earth  for 
the  old  faith  and  the  new.  The  one  thing  for 
which  there  is  neither  place  nor  pardon  is  any  con 
straint  whatsoever  regarding  the  form  in  which  a 
man's  conscience  leads  him  to  worship  God,  so  long 
as  it  is  conformable  to  good  morals.  This  I  will 
maintain,"  and  the  prince  as  he  quoted  the  motto 
of  his  house  with  the  emphasis  of  unalterable  reso 
lution,  showed  for  the  moment  that  iron  will  whose 


143 

shape  was  oftenest  disguised  beneath  the  courteous 
grace  of  his  demeanor. 

Louis  looked  with  wonder  and  even  with  con 
sternation  at  his  brother,  for  these  words  were  such 
as  no  other  man  of  his  time  had  spoken.  Both 
Catholics  and  Protestants  held  coercion  and  re 
pression  of  the  opposite  form  of  faith  as  their  law 
ful  prerogative  and  even  as  their  sacred  right  and 
duty. 

"You  go  far,  sir,"  he  said  gently;  "even  the 
Queen  of  Navarre,  the  noblest  and  the  bravest 
queen  in  Christendom  to-day,  while  she  suffers  not 
persecution  in  her  realm,  forbids  the  idolatrous  wor 
ship  of  the  mass  within  its  borders,  and  does  so 
justly,  it  seems  to  me." 

The  prince  smiled  sadly. 

"  I  trust  the  Queen  of  Navarre  will  live  long 
enough  to  see  her  error,  Louis,"  he  replied,  "but 
such  courage  as  hers  invites  an  early  death.  But 
tell  me,  have  you  still  that  letter  which  she  sent 
to  you  by  the  printer  of  Middelburg  from  some  con 
vent,  if  I  remember,  near  Meaux  ?  " 

"  Nay,  for  safety's  sake  I  destroy  all  letters  of 
such  nature  speedily.  I  can  tell  you,  sir,  however, 
the  matter  it  contained." 

"  It  dealt,  if  I  remember,  with  the  Bayonne  con 
ference,  and  was  written  during  that  same  summer, 
well-nigh  two  years  since,  when  you  were  at  Spa?" 

"  Yes.  It  gave  me  that  pregnant  saying  of  the 
Duke  of  Alva  to  the  queen-mother,  overheard  by 
Prince  Henri,  'better  one  salmon  than  ten  thou 
sand  frogs.'  It  may  be  well  to  recall  that  in  these 
days." 

The  prince  bent  his  head  gravely  and  looked  with 
musing  intentness  into  the  face  of  Louis. 

"  Ah,  if  it  were  but  in  my  power  rightly  to  read 
that  word  to  Egmont !  "  he  exclaimed  presently 
with  emphasis. 

"  Egmont !  "  cried  Louis  of  Nassau  impatiently. 


144 

"He  is  impossible!  He  takes  to  Spanish  honey  as 
if  it  were  a  very  nectar.  Have  you  seen  him  of 
late,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  him,  alas,  to  the  best  of  my  belief 
for  the  last  time.  We  met  a  week  ago  at  Wille- 
broek,  met  and  parted.  Nothing  can  shake  his  con 
fidence,  not  so  much,  I  think,  in  the  king,  of  whose 
perfidy  he  has  had  full  many  a  proof,  but  in  him 
self,  in  his  star,  in  his  brilliant  and  conquering  ca 
reer.  Can  such  a  favorite  of  fortune,  the  hero  of 
St.  Quentin  and  of  Gravelines,  the  idol  of  the 
army,  good  Catholic  and  royalist  to  the  core,  can 
such  a  man  be  made  seriously  to  feel  his  monarch's 
displeasure  ?  He  scorns  the  suggestion.  On  the 
bitter  jealousy  of  Alva  at  his  military  success  he 
will  not  reflect." 

"And  Horn?" 

"  Horn  stands  with  Egmont,  also  Mansfeld  and  all 
the  leaders.  I  remain  to-day  strangely  alone,  for  I 
only  among  the  regent's  councillors  have  refused 
to  take  the  oath." 

"  But  this  being  so  you  surely  cannot  now  re 
main  here  ?  " 

"My  life  is  already,  in  Philip's  sight,  forfeit; 
that  is  a  foregone  issue,  and  Alva's  creed  as  given 
at  Bayonne  has  long  been  familiar  to  me.  But 
were  there  no  menace  to  life  or  liberty,  think  you, 
Louis,  I  would  stay  on  the  spot  to  take  my  com 
mands  from  Alva  henceforth  ?  Sooner  would  I  en 
gage  to  serve  the  devil  himself !  He  at  least  can 
play  the  part  of  a  gentleman  on  occasion." 

The  prince  spoke  with  unwonted  and  imperious 
passion  in  which  perhaps  was  mingled  secret  disap 
pointment  of  his  own  cherished  ambition  to  succeed 
to  the  governor-generalship  of  the  country. 

After  a  moment  of  silence,  Louis  rejoined  ear 
nestly  :  "You  are  far  too  powerful,  my  lord,  for 
this  action  regarding  the  oath  to  be  passed  over. 
That  is  clear.  Moreover,  you  have  a  personal 


145 

enemy  not  less  malignant  and  determined  than 
Alva  himself — Granvelle.  He  has  the  ear  of  Philip, 
and  is  behind  Alva  and  his  army.  Four  years  ago 
he  warned  the  king  that  you  were  a  dangerous 
man,  having  unbounded  influence  with  the  people, 
and  given  to  keeping  your  own  counsel,  while  Eg- 
mont,  he  said,  was  harmless,  being  vacillating,  in 
credibly  vain,  and  open  to  flattery." 

"  Was  that,  in  sooth,  his  judgment  ?  "  asked  Or 
ange,  with  manifest  interest.  "The  cardinal  did 
Egmont  scant  justice." 

"  And  you  have  ever  done  him  more  than  jus 
tice,  my  lord " 

At  this  word  Louis  was  interrupted  by  a  light 
knocking  on  the  door  of  the  cabinet,  and  at  the 
summons  of  the  prince  a  page  appeared,  saying 
with  great  deference : 

"  Monseigneur,  will  it  be  your  pleasure  to  see  the 
young  Tontorf  of  Middelburg  at  the  time  appointed? 
He  has  waited  now  for  an  hour,  and  will  go  and  re 
turn  later  if  such  is  your  preference." 

"Marry,  I  had  clean  forgot  the  lad !"  said  the 
prince  rising. 

"  Tontorf  !  "  exclaimed  Louis.  "  And  from  Mid 
delburg  ?  I  know  the  youth  well,  by  name.  He 
has  trained  troops  for  me  in  Walcheren  these  two 
years  past.  I  have  work  for  him,  and  a  captain's 
commission  will  be  his  ere  long  if  he  is  of  the  met 
tle  I  think." 

"  Would  you  choose  to  see  him  now  ?  "  asked 
the  prince.  "  The  time  is  short." 

"  Short,  indeed,  but  nevertheless  have  him  in.  I 
have  many  questions  to  ask  concerning  Zeeland, 
and  if  the  fellow  has  his  father's  intelligence,  he 
may  be  exceeding  useful." 

"  As  you  please,"  said  Orange  ;  then  turning  to 
the  page:  "Send  in  the  young  man,  but  bid  the 
groom  saddle  two  horses  at  once  for  Count  Louis 
and  myself." 

K 


146 

Then,  as  the  page  withdrew,  he  remarked  with  a 
smile  to  his  brother : 

"  We  will  have  one  last  gallop  together,  sir, 
through  the  dear  old  park.  Who  knows  when  you 
and  I  may  meet  again  in  Breda  ?  " 

A  shadow  clouded  the  animated  face  of  Louis  for 
an  instant.  Did  some  voice  whisper  within  him, 
Never  ? 

Then  entered  the  room  Norbert  Tontorf,  his  tall, 
well-knit  figure  set  off  to  advantage  by  a  slashed 
doublet  and  hose  of  hunter's  green,  his  shapely 
head  uncovered,  his  alert  grace  enhanced  by  the 
mingled  bashfulness  and  boldness  which  the  mo 
ment  aroused  in  him. 

The  Nassaus  received  his  obeisance  graciously, 
and  Louis  exclaimed  with  frank  comradery  : 

"  Now  tell  me,  young  sir,  are  you  the  son  of  my 
good  friend  of  Middelburg,  Nikolaas  Tontorf  ?  " 

"  I  am,  my  lord,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Nay,  then  shake  hands  and  let  us  be  friends," 
cried  the  impetuous  Louis;  "for  if  the  son  be  like 
the  father  there  is  not  in  all  Zeeland  a  sturdier  patriot 
nor  a  more  courageous."  Then  turning  to  his  bro 
ther,  Louis  added  : 

"  Mijnheer  Tontorf,  my  lord,  has  traveled  up 
and  down  through  Flanders  and  through  France  in 
one  disguise  and  another,  distributing  Bibles  and 
hymnals  of  his  own  printing,  carrying  letters  and 
dispatches  between  the  Huguenot  leaders  and  their 
brethren  in  the  Low  Countries,  and  proving  himself 
in  all  ways  a  discreet,  fearless,  and  patriotic  gen 
tleman.  I  count  it  a  rare  pleasure  to  meet  his  son, 
of  whose  service  I  have  spoken  but  now,  and  to 
make  him  known  to  you,  sir." 

The  prince  took  Norbert  by  the  hand  and  looked 
for  a  moment  in  his  face,  while  the  youth,  with 
reverent  yet  fearless  gaze,  met  that  searching  glance 
which  had  power  to  pierce  through  the  outer  mask 
and  divine  the  hearts  of  men. 


147 

"You  are  welcome  to  Breda,  Norbert  Tontorf," 
said  the  prince,  as  if  satisfied  with  what  he  read. 
"  I  would  gladly  hear  of  you  much  concerning  our 
compatriots  in  Zeeland,  but  at  present  time  fails  us 
for  conference.  You  bring  me  a  letter  ?  " 

Norbert,  with  a  low  bow,  placed  in  the  hand  of 
the  prince  the  petition  of  his  father  and  was  about 
to  withdraw,  but  Count  Louis  detained  him  with  a 
question. 

"  Tontorf,  I  have  a  word  for  your  ear,"  he  said  ; 
"  you  are  already  in  training  for  a  soldier.  Would 
you  like  to  enter  the  service  of  my  brother  and  my 
self  presently  ?  There  will  be  work  on  hand  for 
every  loyal  Dutchman  ere  long." 

Norbert's  face  flushed  high. 

"Nothing  could  be  better  to  my  mind  than  to 
serve  the  house  of  Nassau,  and,  with  that,  the 
cause  of  our  country.  Command  me,  sir,  if  1  seem 
to  you  deserving  of  such  honor." 

"Why  not  ride  with  me  even  now,  to-day,  back 
to  Germany  ?  "  cried  Louis.  "  There  is  need 
enough  of  young,  active  fellows  of  leal  heart  like 
you  to  carry  dispatches  hither  and  yon.  Later 
there  will  be  sterner  business  in  plenty." 

Norbert's  heart  bounded  with  the  eager  desire  to 
follow  the  dashing  and  enthusiastic  nobleman  on 
the  spur  of  the  moment,  but  the  thought  of  the  two 
fold  nature  of  the  errand  on  which  he  was  bound 
constrained  him. 

"  With  all  my  heart  would  I  join  you  at  once, 
my  lord,"  he  replied  with  embarrassment,  "but  I 
am  at  this  time  on  my  way  to  Antwerp,  sent  thither 
by  my  parents  with  my  young  sister.  She  has  a 
grievous  malady  of  the  eyes,  and  we  are  forced  to 
consult  a  famous  physician  of  Antwerp,  one  Hoek- 
stra.  I  cannot  leave  the  little  maid,  I  fear,  until  I 
have  discharged  this  duty.  May  I  still  hope  that 
you  will  receive  my  service  when  this  is  accom 
plished  ?  " 


148 

"  Of  a  surety,"  said  Louis.  "Come  when  you 
are  ready  and  1  will  enroll  you  among  the  men  of 
my  escort." 

The  prince,  who  had  been  carefully  perusing  the 
letter  of  Nikolaas  Tontorf,  now  laid  it  down  and 
said  with  musing  seriousness  : 

"  You  may  tell  your  father,  my  young  sir,  that  I 
have  read  his  appeal  with  deepest  sympathy.  I 
am  honored  by  the  confidence  which  such  men  as 
he  evince  toward  me.  The  extremity  of  our  coun 
try  lies  heavily  on  my  heart,  and  I  believe  that  the 
time  for  resistance  will  come.  To  act  over-soon 
and  without  resources  will  be  to  lose  all  and  gain 
nothing.  This  much  he  and  all  who  look  to  me 
may  believe — when  the  time  comes  for  action  I  shall 
act.  So  much  for  your  father.  For  yourself,  I  like 
your  face  and  the  vigor  of  your  manhood  and  your 
youth.  I  can  use  you.  If  you  are  foot-loose  next 
week,  next  month,  or  at  any  future  time,  seek  me 
out  in  Dillenburg.  If  I  am  not  there,  this  jonker," 
and  he  threw  his  arm  affectionately  over  Louis' 
shoulder,  "  is  like  to  be,  or  some  Nassau  of  us,  and 
we  are  all  one.  Farewell,"  and  with  the  last  word 
the  prince  and  Louis  preceded  Norbert  from  the 
cabinet. 

When  the  latter  reached  the  courtyard  he  saw 
the  brothers  as  they  mounted  the  prancing  thor 
oughbreds  which  had  been  awaiting  them  and  gal 
loped  off  through  an  arched  gateway  into  the  vast 
reaches  of  the  green  park  beyond,  which  with  its 
abundant  game,  was  one  of  the  famous  features  of 
Breda  Castle. 

As  he  crossed  the  bridge  over  the  castle  moat 
Norbert  encountered  a  personage  with  whose  ap 
pearance  he  was  already  familiar,  as  he  had  passed 
the  previous  night  at  the  house  of  Mijnheer  Van 
Marie,  Norbert's  uncle,  having  come  from  Antwerp 
in  the  train  of  the  prince.  This  man,  whose  age 
was  something  more  than  thirty  years,  wore  the 


149 

rich  but  sober  attire  of  a  Flemish  alderman.  He 
was  of  florid  complexion,  with  a  handsome  face  and 
huge,  curling,  reddish  moustachios,  and  he  bore  him 
self  with  easy  confidence  and  conscious  importance. 

"  Ha,  my  young  friend,"  he  cried,  on  seeing  Nor- 
bert,  "  have  you  prospered  with  your  mission  ?  It 
is  my  turn  now  to  have  speech  of  his  highness. 
Know  you  yet  if  that  is  true,  which  rumor  says, 
that  the  family  is  about  breaking  up  to  start  for 
Germany  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  information,  Mijnheer  Rubens,  on  that 
matter,"  said  Norbert,  somewhat  briefly,  having 
already  learned  that  it  was  best  not  to  discuss  the 
affairs  of  his  betters,  and  he  hurried  down  into  the 
town,  while  the  councillor l  from  Antwerp  went  on 
his  way  into  the  castle. 

Crossing  the  wide  Kasteel  plein  Norbert  now 
passed  under  the  shadow  of  the  Groote  Kerk,  with 
its  noble  Gothic  tower,  already  hoary  with  age. 
Within,  in  the  dim  shadows,  were  the  imposing 
monuments  of  the  Nassaus,  the  famous  forerun 
ners  of  the  two  men  whose  princely  favor  had  been 
now  so  signally  shown  to  him.  Norbert  had  often 
stood  with  awe  and  veneration  to  gaze  at  the  ma 
jestic  war-lords,  whose  statues  surrounded  the  tomb 
of  old  Engelbert  II.,  and  more  than  all  at  the  impos 
ing  face  and  figure  of  Cassar.  At  this  moment,  in 
the  passion  of  devotion  with  which  William  of  Nas 
sau  had  inspired  him,  he  said  to  himself,  glancing 
through  the  open  portal  of  the  great  church  : 

"  A  greater  than  Caesar  is  here  !  " 

Mijnheer  Van  Marie,  to  whose  hospitable  home 
Norbert  now  hastened,  was  a  barrister  of  some 
standing  in  Breda.  His  wife,  a  younger  sister  of 
Nikolaas  Tontorf,  resembled  the  Middelburg  printer 
in  the  thoughtful  repose  of  her  countenance.  She 
was  of  gentle  and  matronly  presence  and  little  Jac- 

1  Father  of  the  famous  painter,  Peter  Paul  Rubens. 


150 

queline  found  the  comfort  she  needed  in  her  suffer 
ings,  in  her  motherly  care. 

"  And  which  of  these  grands  seigneurs  found  you 
the  finer  gentleman  ?  "  asked  Vrouw  Van  Marie, 
when  Norbert  had  rehearsed  his  interview  with  the 
Prince  of  Orange  and  the  Count  of  Nassau. 

"Either  one  is  a  man  one  could  follow  right 
gladly,"  said  Norbert  thoughtfully.  "Count  Louis 
sets  you  on  fire  with  those  clear,  flashing  blue  eyes, 
and  that  joyous,  gallant  ardor  of  his,  but  Prince 
William  is  on  a  greater  plan.  You  feel  in  him 
the  master  of  men,  the  majesty  of  authority  and 
power." 

"Were  you  not  afraid  of  him  then,  Norbert  ?  " 
asked  little  Jacqueline. 

"Oh,  yes,  afraid  as  I  could  be,  for  I  knew  that 
he  read  me  through  to  the  last  thought  and  intent 
of  my  heart.  And  then  he  is  the  order  of  man 
whose  displeasure  methinks  would  be  terrible,  but 
whose  favor  would  be  worth  dying  to  win.  It  was 
the  proudest  moment  I  ever  knew,  little  sister,  when 
he  asked  me  to  join  his  service.  Oh,  I  am  his  !  I 
belong  to  him  with  every  drop  of  blood  in  my 
body,  and  am  eager  now  to  go  forth  to  do  battle 
for  my  prince,  my  land,  and  my  lady  ! " 

Norbert  in  his  young  enthusiasm  had  gone  far 
beyond  his  wonted  reserve  in  this  outburst  and  his 
color  deepened  as  Vrouw  Van  Marie  said  playfully  : 

"May  we  be  so  bold  as  to  ask  who  is  the 
lady  ?  " 

"  I  know, "said  little  Jacqueline,  laying  her  head 
down  on  Norbert's  shoulder,  "  do  I  not,  brother  ?  It 
is  the  white  abbess,  a  lovely,  hapless  princess 
away  off  in  France  somewhere,  whom  Norbert 
vowed  to  rescue  from  her  enemies  if  ever  the  chance 
should  come  to  him.  He  even  wears  her  device, 
the  three  fleurs-de-lis  royal  on  a  field  azure  which  I 
embroidered  on  a  scarf  of  white  silk  for  him  before 
my  eyes  became  so  painful.  My  father  alone  has 


seen  her,  but  we  all  would  gladly  serve  her  if  we 
could  and  Norbert  most  of  all." 

"  How  very  pretty  and  romantic  !  I  shall  hope 
to  hear  that  our  young  knight  prospers  when  he 
fares  forth  on  such  an  errand,  and  that  he  may  not 
be  forced  to  wait  overlong." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  have  to  serve  the  Princess  of 
Orange  now,  dear  brother,"  said  Jacqueline.  "Is 
she  worthy  of  so  noble  a  lord  ?  " 

There  was  no  reply,  but  presently  Vrouw  Van 
Marie  said  musingly: 

"  Pity  is  it  that  madame  the  princess  seems  not 
to  feel  for  the  prince  aught  of  the  devotion  which 
he  awakens  in  all  others." 

Norbert  glanced  up  quickly.  His  curiosity  re 
garding  the  enigmatical  personality  of  Anne  of 
Saxony  was  all  the  more  keenly  aroused  since  he 
had  met  the  prince. 

"  How  chances  it  that  the  princess  is  so  strangely 
perverse  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  An  enormous  vanity,"  replied  his  aunt,  "is  at 

the  bottom  of  much  of  her  waywardness "  but 

at  that  moment  a  door  was  opened,  and  Master 
Rubens  entered  the  room. 

"  Ah,  you  have  come  just  in  time,  mijnheer," 
said  Vrouw  Van  Marie  ;  "  we  are  about  sitting  down 
for  our  noonday  meal." 

The  Antwerp  councillor  expressed  his  hearty 
satisfaction  in  the  fact,  and  as  the  little  company 
gathered  about  the  bountiful  table,  he  exclaimed, 
with  palpable  complacence  : 

"Master  Norbert,  I  know  not  how  it  fared  with 
you  at  the  castle,  but  for  me  I  have  got  that  which  I 
came  for." 

"  Then  you  had  the  good  fortune  to  see  his  high 
ness?  "  asked  Norbert,  concealing  a  slight  surprise. 

"  Nay,  you  are  wrong  there,  my  lad.  I  saw  not 
my  lord,  but  I  had  the  good  luck  to  see  my  lady, 
who  is,  it  mayhap,  easier  of  access.  His  highness  is 


152 

too  much  the  grand  seigneur  to  suit  a  man  of  my 
kidney.  Now  the  princess  is  a  frank,  free-hearted 
lady,  and  though  she  be  the  great  elector's  daugh 
ter,  has  a  good  word  for  a  man,  even  if  he  be  but  a 
plain  citizen." 

"  And  the  princess  was  able  to  bestow  what  you 
came  for,  mijnheer  ?  "  asked  Vrouw  Van  Marie. 

"  Now  you  are  all  a  little  curious,  I  dare  say,  good 
people,  as  to  what  brought  me  hither  just  now,  since 
I  have  no  pretext  of  business  with  my  friend  Van 
Marie,"  began  Rubens,  looking  about  him  with 
patronizing  familiarity.  "  Between  old  acquaint 
ances  and  -fellow-Protestants  like  ourselves,  what 
need  of  concealment  ?  Be  it  known  then,  that 
since  the  image-breaking  in  the  Church  of  Our  Lady 
and  other  Antwerp  churches,  suspicion  has  fallen 
upon  our  aldermen  and  magistrates  of  having  been 
at  least  not  over-zealous  in  restraining  the  mob.  It 
has  come  to  my  knowledge  that  my  name  stands 
on  a  black-list  which  in  due  time  will  find  its  way 
into  the  hands  of  the  new  governor,  Alva. 

"  This  being  so,  it  behooves  Jan  Rubens  to  seek 
some  new  haven  where  he  may  perchance  employ 
his  legal  abilities  to  earn  an  honest  living  and  pro 
vide  for  wife  and  child  in  peace  and  quietness,  out 
of  reach  of  the  long  arms  of  the  duke.  What  could 
be  more  reasonable  than  for  this  same  Antwerp 
councillor,"  and  Rubens  touched  his  capacious  chest 
with  a  gesture  of  satisfaction  in  his  own  sagacity, 
"  to  attach  himself  in  some  sort  to  the  fortunes  of 
monseigneur,  the  prince,  who  is  himself  about  de 
parting  from  Spanish  soil,  where  in  truth  his  head 
would  remain  but  few  weeks  longer  on  his  shoulders! 

"Very  well  ;  my  lord  being  off  in  the  park  with 
his  brother,  I  made  bold  to  crave  audience  of  my 
lady,  and  to  tell  her  frankly  of  my  errand.  She 
encouraged  me  to  follow  their  court  and  establish 
myself  as  a  retainer  of  the  house  of  Orange  when 
they  are  settled." 


153 

"  Did  madame,  the  princess,  tell  you  where  the 
family  was  to  be  established  ?  "  asked  Mijnheer 
Van  Marie,  who  had  listened  to  the  narration  of 
Rubens  with  a  somewhat  sardonic  smile. 

"  After  a  time  in  Cologne.  But  they  are  to  go 
for  a  few  months,  her  highness  told  me,  on  a  visit 
to  the  ancestral  castle  at  Dillenburg.  She  went  so 
far  as  to  confide  in  me  that  country  life  among  so 
many  brothers  and  sisters-in-law  would  be  little  to 
her  liking  and  she  should  return  to  Cologne  at  the 
earliest  time  she  could  compass.  I  shall  be  there 
awaiting  her,"  added  the  councillor  with  a  flattered 
and  unctuous  smile,  "  ready  to  throw  myself  and 
my  humble  devotion  at  her  feet."  With  this,  and 
a  little  flourish,  Rubens  rose  from  the  table. 

"  Mijnheer  Van  Marie,"  he  said,  "  my  errand  in 
Breda  is  done.  I  see  no  reason  now  for  lingering 
longer.  Will  you  send  a  knecht  down  to  the  Gooden 
Leeuw  and  order  my  groom  to  get  the  horses  ready 
to  start  at  once  ?  " 

"  Is  it  not  somewhat  late  in  the  day  to  begin  the 
journey  to  Antwerp  ?  "  asked  his  host. 

"  And  the  sky  is  dark  and  lowering "  added 
Vrouw  Van  Marie. 

"  My  aunt,"  cried  Norbert,  with  sudden  resolu 
tion,  "  like  Master  Rubens  my  errand  in  Breda  is 
done.  What  should  hinder  me,  if  he  is  willing,  to 
avail  myself  of  his  escort,  to  proceed  on  my  journey 
with  Jacqueline.  The  cloudy  sky  suits  her  weak 
vision  better  than  sunshine.  Going  now  we  will 
save  taxing  you  for  escort,  and  we  shall  be  even  to 
night  at  our  journey's  end." 

Little  could  be  said  against  a  project  so  mani 
festly  judicious,  and  Master  Rubens  welcoming  the 
companionship  of  the  young  Tontorfs  with  careless 
good-will,  the  three  shortly  set  out  on  stout  horses, 
accompanied  by  the  groom  of  the  councillor,  to  ride 
the  thirty  miles  of  level  road  which  stretched  be 
tween  Breda  and  the  good  city  of  Antwerp. 


XV 
IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  STRANGERS 

"  r~pHERE,  little   sister,  it  is  even  here  on  this 

very   spot   that   his   grace,   the    Prince   of 

Orange,  stood  hardly  a  month  ago  with  the 

arquebuses  pointed  at  his  breast,  and  held  at  bay 

by  his  own  steady  courage  the  howling  mob  which 

broke  loose  after  the  bloody  fight  of  Osterwell.     If 

I  could  but  have  been  there  then  to  see  him  !  " 

So  spoke  Norbert  Tontorf  to  his  sister  Jacqueline 
as  they  rode  down  the  famous  Place  de  Meir  in  the 
city  of  Antwerp  late  that  same  evening.  They 
were  seeking  the  house  of  a  certain  engraver,  by 
name  Bouterwek,  with  whom  their  father  had  di 
rected  them  to  take  lodging.  The  rain  was  falling 
in  torrents,  the  April  evening  was  chill,  and  dark 
ness  was  deepening  through  the  city.  Jacqueline 
making  no  response  to  her  brother's  exclamation, 
the  young  man  turned  to  glance  at  her  face  and  ex 
claimed  : 

"What,  Jacqueline,  are  those  salty  drops  that 
are  falling  down  thy  cheeks  ?  What  ails  thee, 
little  one  ?  Art  tired  beyond  thy  strength  ?  Listen 
to  those  chimes  !  Is  not  their  sound  most  musical  ? " 
and  Norbert  looked  up  at  the  lofty  spire  of  the  great 
cathedral  which  dominated  the  city,  as  it  had  done 
for  centuries  and  should  do  for  centuries  to  come. 

"I  do  not  care  to  hear  them,"  cried  Jacqueline 
piteously.  "  I  would  far  rather  hear  the  chimes  of 
Lange  Jan.  Oh,  Norbert,  I  want  my  mother,  I 
want  to  go  back  to  Middelburg.  I  hate  this  great, 
gloomy  city.  The  people  look  at  us  with  wicked 
looks,  and  these  strange  streets  frighten  me." 


155 

They  had  turned  now  into  the  labyrinth  of  nar 
row,  crooked  streets,  which  intervenes  southward 
between  the  cathedral  and  the  river.  Above  them 
the  tall,  dark  houses  seemed  to  lean  across  the  nar 
row  spaces  as  if  to  touch  each  other,  foul  smells 
rose  from  the  gutters,  bold-faced  women  fleered  at 
them  from  the  windows,  the  few  passers-by  eyed 
them  with  sullen,  even  hostile,  curiosity,  and  the 
rain  beat  pitilessly  upon  their  unprotected  heads. 

Norbert  stopped  his  horse  and  asked  a  cobbler 
who  stood  in  his  greasy  leather  apron,  bare-armed 
before  his  shop,  if  he  would  direct  him  to  the  Rue 
d'Augustin. 

For  answer  the  man  looked  up  at  an  open  win 
dow  above  the  shop,  from  which  a  red-faced  woman 
leaned,  and  called  : 

"  Beshrew  me,  but  the  young  master  is  seeking 
a  refuge  from  the  rain  in  the  Rue  d'Augustin  !  " 
upon  which  the  woman  burst  out  into  coarse,  de 
risive  laughter,  which  terrified  Jacqueline  indescrib 
ably.  With  sundry  nods  and  smiles  the  stout  cob 
bler  now  took  Norbert's  horse  by  the  bridle  and  led 
him  on  a  few  paces  to  a  corner  where  the  street 
was  intersected  by  another,  gloomier  and  more  un 
savory  than  the  first. 

"Follow  that,  my  fine  fellow,"  he  said  pointing 
east,  "until  you  come  to  a  small  alley  leading 
south.  That  will  take  you,  with  a  few  twists  and 
turns,  safely  to  that  same  Rue  d'Augustin  which 
you  desire,"  and  with  that  he  retreated  to  his 
shop. 

"Norbert,"  cried  Jacqueline,  trembling  and  un 
able  to  restrain  her  tears,  "there  must  be  some 
thing  wrong.  My  father  would  never  have  sent  us 
to  such  a  place  as  this  bids  fair  to.be.  Do  not  let 
us  go  farther." 

"  Where  should  we  go  then,  Jacqueline  ?  "  asked 
Norbert  cheerfully,  keeping  straight  forward. 

"  Mijnheer  Rubens  should  have  remained  with  us, 


I56 

and  not  left  us  as  he  did  at  Oude-God.  Oh,  if 
only  I  had  not  been  hungry  and  tired  and  forced 
you  to  halt  !  "  the  child  lamented. 

"  He  was  somewhat  overhasty  to  reach  his  own 
comfortable  home  before  dark,  I  will  allow,"  said 
Norbert ;  "  but  he  meant  well  enough.  He  gave 
me  endless  directions,  thou  knowest,  for  finding 
the  Rue  d'Augustin  properly,  but  somehow  in  this 
medley  of  strange  streets  I  have  lost  the  clue. 
Cheer  up,  little  one,  we  shall  presently  find  Mijn- 
heer  Bouterwek,  and  there  will  be  an  end  to  all 
ihisfacherie." 

In  a  few  moments,  having  threaded  a  most  for 
bidding  and  tortuous  alley,  they  did  indeed  turn  into 
a  wider  street,  and  one  of  better  aspect,  which 
proved  to  be  the  Rue  d'Augustin. 

They  rode  slowly,  for  darkness  had  now  fallen 
and  it  was  only  by  a  small  torch  which  he  had 
lighted  that  aught  could  be  discerned  save  the 
outline  of  the  tall  beetling  housefronts.  Norbert 
searched  these  closely,  as  they  passed,  for  the 
small  sign  he  sought.  With  an  exclamation  of  satis 
faction  he  cried  presently  : 

"  Here  we  are  at  last !  Now  dry  thy  tears,  Jac 
queline,  and  end  thy  fears.  See,  '  Gerard  Bouter 
wek,  engraver,'  "  and  as  he  plied  the  great  knocker 
Norbert  held  his  torch  up  to  a  large,  polished  shield 
of  brass,  which  bore  this  name,  surrounded  with 
fine  chasing,  showing  symbols  of  the  owner's 
craft. 

"  But  why  is  the  house  so  dark  ?  "  asked  Jac 
queline. 

In  fact  the  windows  of  the  house  front  were  all 
alike  closely  barred,  and  not  a  ray  of  light  pene 
trated  from  within.  A  silence  oppressive  and  sin 
ister  followed  Norbert's  knocking  ;  no  person 
passed,  no  voice  or  sound  reached  the  place  which 
seemed  now  to  the  strained  perceptions  of  the 
young  Middelburgers  strangely  deserted. 


157 

Again  Norbert  knocked  with  sharp  strokes,  which 
sent  echoes  sounding  down  the  length  of  the  street, 
but  produced  no  other  result.  The  house  of  Master 
Bouterwek  remained  dark  and  silent  as  before. 

"  Norbert,  what  will  become  of  us  ?  Where  can 
we  go  ?  The  people  must  be  gone  away  alto 
gether." 

"  One  would  think  they  would  have  left  at  least 
a  servant,"  muttered  Norbert,  his  hand  again  on 
the  knocker. 

At  the  first  sound  of  his  renewed  knocking  a 
shutter  in  the  house  opposite  was  pushed  cautiously 
open,  a  faint  light  shone  out,  and  a  harsh  voice 
called  : 

"Mort  Dieu,  you  there  !  Can't  you  go  to  perdi 
tion  fast  enough  without  seeking  entrance  yon 
der  ?  " 

"  What  mean  you,  sir  ?  "  asked  Norbert,  hastily 
crossing  the  street  and  looking  up  at  the  window. 

"  By  Saint  Ildefonso  !  my  good  fellow,  can  you 
not  see  by  your  torch  the  God's  mark  on  the  door 
post  ?  " 

Norbert  involuntarily  made  a  gesture  of  dismay 
as  he  now  for  the  first  time  perceived  the  fatal 
token. 

"  Two  of  the  family  of  Master  Bouterwek  died 
of  the  plague  last  week,  and  the  printer  himself  is 
at  the  last  gasp  even  now.  If  you  are  wise  you 
will  cease  your  pounding  on  that  door  and  seek 
shelter  otherwhere,"  and  with  this  the  man  drew 
back  from  the  window  and  was  about  to  close  the 
shutter. 

Jacqueline  gave  a  faint  cry,  and  her  white  face 
and  evident  exhaustion  impelled  Norbert  to  imme 
diate  action.  Without  further  pause  for  considera 
tion  he  called  to  the  man  above  : 

"  My  good  friend,  tarry  a  bit,  an'  it  please  you. 
My  young  sister  is  too  weary  to  go  farther  in  this 
darkness  and  pelting  rain.  We  are  strangers  in 


158 

Antwerp  and  without  escort.  The  city  is  full  of 
reckless  prowlers  and  we  cannot  safely  search  out 
such  lodging  as  befits  us.  Can  you  not  grant  us 
your  hospitality  for  this  one  night  ?  " 

An  unpromising  and  unintelligible  muttering  was 
the  only  reply,  but  Norbert  saw  that  the  man  who 
now  left  the  window  had  not  carried  out  his  first 
intention  of  closing  the  shutter. 

"  Be  not  downcast,  Jacqueline,"  he  said  cheerily, 
"  the  fellow  is  churlish,  to  be  sure,  but  he  is  plainly 
not  the  master ;  and  see,  it  is  no  mean  house,  but 
I  should  judge  the  residence  of  some  personage  of 
quality  who  would  scarce  refuse  so  reasonable  a 
request,"  and  Norbert  lifting  his  torch  let  its  light 
flicker  over  the  carved  facade  before  them. 

But  Jacqueline  was  in  too  great  an  extremity  to 
take  heed  of  such  matters,  and  she  made  no  reply 
to  Norbert's  stout-hearted  encouragement,  but  sat 
now  with  her  head  drooping  even  to  her  horse's 
mane.  The  slow  moments  passed  painfully,  but 
suddenly  the  sound  of  slipping  bolts  and  turning 
keys  in  the  house  door  close  beside  her  called 
Jacqueline's  aching  eyes  down  from  the  window 
on  which  they  had  been  fastened.  The  man  with 
whom  they  had  been  speaking  now  appeared  in  the 
doorway,  the  lamplight  in  the  hall  beyond  sharply 
outlining  his  figure.  Norbert  perceived  that  he  was 
a  man  of  twenty-five,  or  thereabouts,  of  harsh  and 
angular  frame,  shabbily  dressed,  and  yet  obviously 
above  the  rank  of  a  servant. 

"  Are  we  to  enter  ?  "  asked  Norbert,  for  the  man 
did  not  speak  nor  relax  in  any  degree  his  sour  and 
sullen  aspect. 

To  this  question  he  replied  only  by  a  curt  nod 
and  a  motion  of  his  hand. 

Norbert  turned  and  lifted  Jacqueline  down  from 
her  saddle  and  she  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  swim 
ming  pavement  so  dizzy  and  her  limbs  so  stiffened 
and  aching  that  to  move  forward  seemed  impossible. 


159 

A  servant  now  appeared  who  took  their  horses 
and  led  them  off  to  a  neighboring  stable,  Norbert 
having  removed  the  saddle-bags  containing  their 
few  personal  belongings.  Laden  with  those  and 
supporting  Jacqueline's  faltering  steps,  he  led  her 
into  the  house,  whose  dubious  hospitality  was  at 
least  better  than  the  dark  and  dangerous  streets. 

Following  their  silent  guide  they  now  crossed  a 
faintly  lighted  court,  in  which  Norbert  descried 
bales  of  merchandise,  indicating  the  occupation  of 
the  owner  of  the  house.  From  the  gloomy  pre 
cincts  of  this  court  they  stepped  immediately  into 
a  large,  well-lighted  room,  luxuriously  furnished  in 
a  style  wholly  unfamilar  to  the  young  Zeelanders. 

Leaving  them  to  stand  in  the  center  of  this 
apartment  in  their  dripping  garments  and  still  with 
out  an  unneeded  word,  their  guide  now  disappeared 
into  an  inner  room,  the  door  of  which  he  carefully 
closed. 

Again  the  interval  of  waiting  seemed  intermina 
ble,  and  their  surroundings  began  to  assume  a 
dreamlike  and  fantastic  aspect,  when  at  the  end 
of  the  long  room  a  silken  curtain  was  lightly  lifted 
and  a  young  woman  entering  approached  them 
with  soft,  gliding  steps. 

More  than  ever  was  Norbert  possessed  of  the 
sensation  of  being  in  a  dream  as  he  watched  the  ap 
proach  of  this  person,  who  was  of  singular  and 
striking  beauty  and  dressed  with  extravagant  rich 
ness  and  with  a  brilliancy  and  boldness  of  color 
which  bordered  on  the  grotesque. 

"  Now  by  Saint  Eulalia  of  Madrid!"  cried  this 
lady,  in  a  soft,  silvery  voice,  through  which  an  un 
der-current  of  derisive  laughter  seemed  to  vibrate, 
"what  have  we  here  ?  Saints  save  us,  but  who 
are  you,  poor  dripping  pilgrims  ?  and  what  wind 
blew  you  hither  ?  " 

She  now  came  up  to  the  two  as  they  stood  in 
dazzled  bewilderment,  and  lifting  Jacqueline's  chin 


i6o 

in  her  taper  fingers  studied  her  face  for  a  moment, 
remarking:  "You  must  e'en  go  to  a  surgeon  for 
those  eyes  of  yours,  my  pretty  child." 

Then  turning  with  startling  suddenness  to  Nor- 
bert,  she  gave  him  a  swift,  sharp  tap  on  the  ear 
which  brought  all  the  blood  in  his  body  to  his  head 
and  for  a  moment  completed  his  bedazzlement. 

The  young  lady  watched  the  effect  of  this  little 
admonition  with  peals  of  light,  musical  laughter, 
and  as  Norbert  rallied  his  wits,  she  cried  : 

"  Off  with  your  bonnet,  sir !  Do  they  not  teach 
you  Dutch  jonkers  to  uncover  in  the  presence  of 
ladies  ?  " 

Hastily  Norbert  removed  his  soaked  and  now 
shapeless  cap  and  bowed  low  to  his  monitor,  with 
the  words : 

"Your  pardon,  madame  !  I  was  so  bewildered  by 
the  beauty  of  all  about  me  after  the  desolate  gloom 
without,  that  I  forgot  myself  entirely." 

"  Yes,  I  will  pardon  you,  since  you  excuse  your 
self  so  gallantly,  and  since,  by  our  Lady,  you  look 
so  infinitely  more  agreeable  without  that  wretched 
cap." 

The  door  now  reopened  and  their  guide  appear 
ing  led  Norbert  and  Jacqueline  into  the  inner  room, 
the  young  lady  throwing  them  light  kisses  and  fol 
lowing  their  departure  with  gay  trills  of  laughter. 

The  room  which  they  now  entered  was  small, 
but  so  brilliant  were  its  walls,  hung  with  crimson 
Spanish  leather,  illumined  by  numerous  waxlights 
held  in  branching  and  gilded  sconces,  that  even 
after  the  brightness  of  the  apartment  which  Nor 
bert  and  Jacqueline  had  just  left,  it  burned  like  the 
heart  of  a  rose  with  throbbing  color. 

A  table  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room  strewn 
with  papers,  near  which  on  the  floor  a  small  brazier 
held  a  red  fire  of  coals.  Some  strange  foreign  pas 
tilles  strewn  upon  the  coals  filled  the  room  with 
heavily  fragrant  fumes.  A  long,  carved  cupboard 


of  old  ebony  held  a  dense  array  of  curious  flasks, 
crucibles,  and  jars  of  chemicals.  The  door  stood 
open  into  a  small  laboratory  beyond. 

In  the  center  of  the  room,  beside  the  table,  a  man 
was  seated,  who  Norbert  at  once  perceived  was 
the  master  of  the  house,  and  to  whom  he  now 
presented  himself  with  respectful  and  apologetic 
greeting. 

This  man  was  wrapped  in  a  long,  loose  robe  of 
black  velvet,  which  opened  at  the  breast  disclosing 
wrought  linen  of  unusual  fineness.  His  face  was 
long  and  the  cheeks  sallow  and  sunken,  the  eyes 
singularly  keen  and  glittering  under  the  pent-house 
roof  of  the  heavy  projecting  brows.  Long,  black 
hair  hung  to  the  shoulder  from  a  pointed  black  vel 
vet  cap,  delicate  lace  fell  over  the  bony,  nervous 
fingers,  and  a  black  beard,  waving  and  flecked  with 
gray  reached  to  the  girdle,  which  was  loosely  tied 
at  the  waist. 

Fixing  his  eyes  upon  Norbert's  face  with  avid 
keenness  the  Spaniard,  for  such  the  young  Zee- 
lander  now  with  little  pleasure  recognized  the  mas 
ter  of  the  house  to  be,  spoke  in  a  voice  of  singularly 
melodious  quality. 

"My  clerk  tells  me,  young  sir,  that  you  seem 
minded  to  force  an  entrance  to  my  house  to-night 
by  your  importunity.  The  times  are  ill,  and  a  pru 
dent  man  would  fain  know  of  what  strain  may  be 
strangers  whom  he  harbors.  What  have  you  to 
say  for  yourself  ?  " 

Despite  the  peculiar  melody  of  the  voice  and  the 
conciliatory  smile  with  which  the  Spanish  merchant 
said  these  words,  the  cold  suspicion  expressed  in 
them  acted  upon  Norbert  with  harshly  repellent 
effect. 

"I  am  Norbert  Tontorf,"  he  replied  proudly, 
"son  of  Nikolaas  Tontorf,  an  honorable  citizen  and 
master-printer  of  Middelburg,  whose  name  should 
not  be  all  unknown  even  in  Antwerp.  I  have  come 

L 


1 62 

hither  to  bring  my  young  sister  to  the  care  of  a 
physician,  Doctor  Hoekstra.  My  father  directed  us 
to  lodge  in  the  house  of  Master  Bouterwek,  who 
is  his  good  friend,  if  he  be  yet  alive,  but  I  am  told 
by  your  clerk  that  he  is  in  extremity  at  this  very 
hour.  The  city  councillor,  Jan  Rubens,  gave  us  his 
escort  hither  as  far  as  Oude-God,  where  I  tarried 
for  rest  and  food  for  my  sister,  and  hence  we  ar 
rived  in  Antwerp  alone  and  strangers.  We  ask, 
monsieur,  nothing  at  your  hands  but  that  for  which 
we  are  able  to  pay,  and  in  the  morning  we  will 
gladly  depart  to  seek  such  lodging  as  your  good 
city  can  doubtless  furnish  to  those  who  enter  it 
neither  as  vagabonds  nor  beggars." 

The  boyish  independence,  wounded  pride,  and 
sturdy  boldness  of  Norbert's  speech  and  of  his  bear 
ing  appeared  to  awaken  a  species  of  not  unsympa 
thetic  amusement  on  the  part  of  the  master  of  the 
house,  while  something  in  his  statement  noticeably 
quickened  his  interest  in  the  youth.  He  nodded 
several  times,  and  the  curiously  fascinating  irony  of 
his  smile  went  far  to  disarm  Norbert  of  his  rising 
anger. 

"  Excellent,  my  young  friend,"  he  said,  fixing 
his  piercing  eyes  on  Norbert's  face,  "  well  and  gal 
lantly  spoken.  The  high  repute  of  your  father's 
house  is  in  fact  well  known  to  me.  Antwerp  itself 
and  the  great  Plantin  find  in  Middelburg  and  its 
master  printer  a  worthy  rivalry.  If  I  am  rightly 
informed,  your  father's  establishment  has  of  late 
been  increased  by  several  new  presses.  This  au 
gurs  well,  Master  Norbert,  for  the  prosperity  of 
your  father's  business,"  and  the  merchant  smiled 
with  stately  courtesy. 

"  Our  business  has  indeed  grown  rapidly  of 
late,"  returned  Norbert  in  a  matter  of  fact  tone, 
but  with  characteristic  reticence  he  followed  the 
Spaniard's  lead  no  further. 

"Sent  forth  on  such  an  errand,"  proceeded  the 


merchant  graciously,  "and  from  such  a  house,  it 
were  needless  to  inquire  whether  the  son  and 
daughter  of  Mijnheer  Tontorf  are  amply  equipped 
for  the  costs  of  their  residence  in  a  strange  city." 

He  paused  slightly  and  Norbert  bowed  a  silent 
assent,  at  the  same  time  drawing  from  his  pocket 
several  gold  pieces  which  he  advanced  as  if  to  lay 
upon  the  table. 

The  Spaniard  made  a  gesture  of  protest,  although 
his  eyes  scanned  the  coins  shrewdly  for  an  instant, 
and  he  said  with  dignity  : 

"  Put  up  your  gold,  Master  Tontorf.  I  need  no 
further  guarantee.  In  truth,  I  am  about  to  propose 
that  you  seek  no  further  on  the  morrow  for  an 
abiding-place.  My  house,  though  small  and  poor 
.in  comparison  with  that  of  your  father,  is  neverthe 
less  hospitable " 

As  the  Spanish  merchant  thus  spoke  he  was 
interrupted  by  a  low  cry  from  Jacqueline.  Turning 
quickly,  Norbert  was  but  just  in  time  to  catch  her 
as  she  sank  fainting  on  the  floor.  His  own  head 
was  growing  dizzy  and  his  vision  dim.  The  fumes 
which  filled  the  apartment  with  their  languorous 
fragrance,  the  brilliancy  of  color,  the  enervating 
warmth,  produced  an  overpowering  influence  even 
upon  his  hardy  vigor. 

The  Spaniard  rose,  his  tall  figure  erect  in  its  long 
black  robe,  his  sharp  glance  fixed  upon  the  pros 
trate  child.  A  silver  bell  stood  on  his  table,  which 
he  rang,  and  then  crossing  the  room  to  the  open 
shelves,  he  returned  with  a  small  vial  just  as  the 
door  opened,  and  the  lady  whom  they  had  pre 
viously  seen  appeared. 

"  Here  is  work  for  you,  Senora  Valerie,"  he  said 
quickly. 

"Ah,  poor  little  one!"  she  cried  pitifully,  and 
she  drew  the  drooping  head  upon  her  knee  with  a 
gentleness  which  brought  a  grateful  moisture  to 
Norbert's  eyes. 


1 64 

Seeing  Jacqueline  evidently  reviving,  he  turned 
to  the  Spaniard  and  said  : 

"  We  are  like  to  be  glad,  it  seems,  monsieur,  to 
accept  your  hospitality  for  some  days  to  come,  and 
at  least  for  to-night  it  is  most  urgently  needed." 

"  Of  a  surety,"  replied  his  host,  with  grave  cor 
diality,  "and  now,  without  more  ado,  we  will  put 
this  little  maid  to  bed,"  and  he  led  the  way  up  a 
flight  of  stairs,  Norbert  and  the  lady  whom  he  had 
addressed  as  Senora  Valerie  supporting  Jacqueline 
between  them. 

Above  they  were  led  down  a  dim  corridor  and 
ushered  into  a  small  room  at  the  back  of  the  house, 
from  which  opened  another  scarcely  larger  than  a 
closet  and  without  a  window,  both,  however,  being 
simply  but  sufficiently  furnished  as  sleeping  rooms. 

A  servant  who  had  been  hastily  summoned  now 
brought  several  flasks  of  medicine  and  cordials, 
which  he  placed  upon  a  table,  together  with  food 
and  wine.  While  Norbert  and  Jacqueline  partook 
of  the  latter  their  host  and  Senora  Valerie  spent  a 
moment  in  serious,  low-voiced  consultation  outside 
the  door.  The  instant,  however,  that  Jacqueline 
turned  wearily  from  the  scarcely  tasted  food  the 
lady  was  at  her  side. 

Norbert  retreated  to  his  narrow  sleeping-closet, 
while  Senora  Valerie,  with  deft  and  gentle  hands, 
disrobed  the  shivering  child  and  made  her  ready 
for  the  night.  In  brief  time  she  sank  into  a  restless, 
feverish  slumber,  over  which  Valerie  watched  for 
a  little  space.  Then  gently  pushing  open  Norbert's 
door,  she  whispered  : 

"  Go  you  now  to  rest.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  you 
are  yourself  dead  tired  and  must  sleep.  Your  sister 
will  sleep  now.  My  room  is  hard  by  and  I  will 
watch  over  her  until  morning.  She  is  in  good  hands. 
If  Senor  Anastro  your  host  were  something  cold  in 
his  reception,  you  will  find  him  but  the  warmer  in 
his  hospitality  since  he  knows  your  true  degree." 


The  gentleness  of  these  words  was  so  far  re 
moved  from  the  wild  gayety  of  Senora  Valerie's 
former  manner  that  Norbert  almost  doubted  if  it 
were  indeed  the  same  person. 

"Thank  you,  senora,  with  all  my  heart,"  he 
whispered  back.  "  Rest  would  indeed  be  wel 
come,"  he  added  with  evident  misgiving. 

Something  touched  his  breast  lightly.  It  was  the 
hand  of  Valerie.  A  soft  musical  laugh  came  with 
the  words  : 

"  There,  kiss  my  hand  in  token  that  you  forgive 
my  welcome  which  was,  in  sooth,  over-sharp,  and 
fear  not  to  trust  a  lady  who  thus  does  you  grace." 

Norbert  touched  the  delicate  hand  with  his  lips, 
then  the  door  closed  softly  between  them.  In  the 
darkness  he  groped  his  way  to  the  narrow  pallet, 
threw  himself  upon  it,  and  knew  no  more  until 
morning. 

Valerie  returned  noiselessly  to  Jacqueline's  bed 
side.  The  child  slept,  albeit  with  rough  and  trou 
bled  breathing.  Valerie's  hand  now  unfastened  her 
nightdress  at  the  throat  and  after  a  moment  of  dex 
terous  manipulation  and  the  aid  of  a  small  lancet- 
shaped  knife  which  severed  a  ribbon,  she  appeared 
to  obtain  something  for  which  she  sought. 

In  another  instant  she  stood  outside  the  door, 
which  she  closed  and  locked,  and  then  laid  a  small 
book  bound  in  white  vellum  in  the  hand  of  Senor 
Anastro,  who  stood  waiting. 

"There,"  she  said  laughing  softly,  "I  had  not 
far  to  seek  for  a  token.  No  rosary  did  I  find,  nor 

crucifix,  nor  Agnus  Dei.  Still  if  this  is  a  missal " 

and  she  paused,  her  head  drooping  on  Anastro's 
shoulder,  while  they  scanned  the  tiny  book  together 
with  intense  eagerness  by  the  light  of  his  candle. 
It  proved  to  be  the  four  Gospels  finely  printed  and 
bound. 

"  By  Geronimo  !  "  breathed  rather  than  spoke  the 
Spaniard.  "  It  is  no  missal !  My  scent  was  right !  I 


i66 

knew  I  had  heard  a  whisper  concerning  that  Mid- 
delburger.  His  affinity,  moreover,  with  our  ill- 
starred  neighbor  opposite  did  but  deepen  the  com 
plexion  of  my  doubt." 

"  Yes,  but  know  you  even  now,"  whispered 
Valerie,  "  that  the  Middelburger  himself  printed 
this  little  book?  What  is  the  sign  or  imprint?  " 

Anastro  turned  to  the  title-page  and  pointed  with 
his  lean  brown  forefinger  to  the  device  of  the  cross 
enclosed  by  the  circle  or  crown,  with  a.  fleur-de-lis 
in  the  center. 

"  Is  that  sufficient?  Is  that  proof? "  asked 
Valerie,  smoothing  the  soft  fur  of  the  Spaniard's 
robe  with  her  light,  jeweled  fingers,  and  watching 
his  face  with  undisguised  eagerness. 

He  shook  his  head,  his  glittering  eyes  searching 
greedily,  but  in  vain,  through  the  leaves  of  the  book 
for  further  sign  or  token. 

"Nay,  my  Valerie,"  he  said  then,  "  thou  hast 
done  well,  but  better  yet  must  be.  Restore  the 
little  book  ;  then  seek  in  thy  woman's  wit  for  some 
shift  whereby  the  child  shall  give  thee  the  knowl 
edge  we  seek  and  give  it  ere  daybreak.  But  let 
her  suspect  nothing,  else  all  will  be  in  vain." 

Within  Jacqueline's  chamber  Valerie  carefully 
replaced  the  little  book  on  the  child's  breast,  fas 
tening  the  ribbon,  then  listened  at  the  inner  door 
and  satisfying  herself  from  his  breathing  that  Nor- 
bert  slept  soundly,  she  turned  the  key  in  the  lock. 
This  done  she  lighted  a  candle,  and  with  quick,  sure 
motions  poured  out  into  a  small  basin  portions  of  the 
oil,  rose  water,  and  other  simple  lotions  which  were 
standing  ready  on  the  table.  Kneeling  then  by  the 
bed  she  proceeded  with  her  slender,  flexible  fingers 
to  rub  the  compound  thoroughly  into  the  throat  and 
chest  of  Jacqueline. 

In  a  few  moments,  as  she  expected,  the  young 
girl  opened  her  eyes  and  murmured  a  confused, 
half-articulate  question. 


167 

"A  shame  to  waken  thee,  dear  child,"  said 
Valerie  in  a  cordial,  cheering  voice,  "  but  I  needs 
must  rub  this  fricace  into  thy  throat  to  soothe  thy 
breathing.  I  fear  thou  hast  taken  a  strong  chill  and 
fever  may  follow.  Keep  awake,  little  one,  yet  a 
moment,  that  I  may  also  administer  the  cordial  that 
the  kind  Senor  Anastro  hath  sent  thee." 

Jacqueline  awoke  at  this  and  rubbed  her  eyes 
open  when  suddenly  Valerie  appearing  to  discover 
the  little  book  for  the  first  time  and  lifting  it  in  her 
hand,  exclaimed  : 

"  Oh,  what  have  I  found  !  Jacqueline,  surely 
this  is  the  very  word  of  God.  Is  it  possible  that 
thou  art  so  happy  as  to  own  this  wonderful  book  for 
which  I  have  longed  for  many  years,  but  in  vain?" 
And  pressing  her  lips  passionately  upon  the  cover 
the  Senora  to  all  appearance  was  lost  in  a  transport 
of  mingled  joy  and  longing. 

Jacqueline  stared,  half-dazed  for  a  little  space, 
dimly  remembering  the  many  injunctions  to  secrecy 
regarding  this  book  which  she  had  received  at  home, 
but  feeling  them  in  this  case  to  be  wholly  out  of 
place. 

Presently  Valerie  lifted  her  head. 

"Jacqueline,"  she  whispered,  dashing  away  the 
tears  which  were  supposed  to  fill  her  eyes,  with  a 
frank,  artless  gesture,  "  no  one  knows  my  heart. 
I  do  not  dare  to  let  them.  If  I  could  but  own  a 
book  like  this  I  believe  I  could  live  a  different  life 
and  die  happy  !  Canst  thou  not  tell  me  where 
thine  was  procured  ?  Couldst  thou  aid  me  to  ob 
tain  one  like  it  ?  What  is  money  ?  I  would  pay 
any  price  !  "  and  her  large  eyes,  glowing  fervently, 
were  fixed  upon  the  innocent  face  of  the  girl. 

"  With  all  my  heart,  dear  lady,  I  will  help  you 
to  get  a  book  like  mine,"  said  Jacqueline,  full  of 
sympathy  for  the  stranger  lady's  religious  devotion, 
"  nor  sh.  11  it  cost  you  even  one  stiver.  It  is  a  secret, 
but  to  you  I  can  tell  it ;  my  own  dear  father  prints 


i68 

Bibles  and  hymnals  at  our  printery  in  Middelburg, 
although  just  where  and  when  nobody  knows.  But 
this  is  one  that  he  printed,  and  when  I  return  I  will 
ask  him  to  send  you  a  far  better  one  than  this,  large 
and  well  bound,  for  your  own,  and  Helma,  that  is 
my  sister,  shall  illuminate  the  title-page  for  it." 

Valerie  kissed  the  unsuspecting  girl  with  a  rap 
turous  joy  quite  unfeigned  by  reason  of  her  genuine 
exultation  in  the  success  of  her  little  experiment. 
She  admonished  the  child  earnestly,  however,  to 
absolute  silence,  as  she  dared  not  let  any  living 
soul  know  her  secret  desire. 

"  Now  take  this  cordial,  and  go  fast  to  sleep,  good, 
dear  little  girl.  We  shall  grow  very  fond  of  each 
other  since  we  have  this  great  secret  together. 
Good-night,"  and  Valerie  extinguished  the  light 
and  noiselessly  rejoined  Anastro  in  the  corridor 
outside. 

Passing  to  the  end  farthest  from  Jacqueline's 
door,  Valerie  rehearsed  with  much  spirit  the  scene 
which  had  just  taken  place  and  every  word  spoken 
by  the  daughter  of  Nikolaas  Tontorf.  Anastro 
listened  with  closest  attention  and  signified  his  sat 
isfaction  by  a  still  smile  and  slow  approving  nods. 

"Thou  knowest  the  reward,  Valerie,  if  this  pes 
tilent  printer  be  brought  to  justice  ?  "  he  asked 
with  significant  emphasis,  when  her  tale  was  told. 

"  Nay,  Anastro,  1  know  it  is  worth  an  effort,  but 
of  the  exact  conditions  I  am  ignorant." 

"  One-tenth  of  the  substance  of  the  man's  pos 
sessions  in  such  a  case  is  pledged  by  the  crown  to 
the  one  giving  unmistakable  proof  of  his  infracture 
of  the  edicts.  This  man's  violation,  gross  and 
flagrant,  is  now  absolutely  confirmed  ;  and  my 
part,  our  part,  my  peerless  friend,  cannot  fail  to  be 
recognized  and  duly  rewarded.  The  man  is  rich, 
that  I  have  heard  ere  this,  and  what  the  lad  let 
drop  just  now  below  made  me  doubly  sure.  It  was 
a  lucky  wind  that  blew  them  in  hither  to-night.  To 


win  the  favor  of  God  and  Our  Lady  and  repair  my 
fortunes  at  one  stroke  is  not  a  bad  night's  work  ! 
And  thy  skillful  furtherance,  my  Valerie,  shall  not 
be  forgotten.  Thou  shalt  lack  no  longer  those 
jewels  which  will  so  weJI  become  thy  beauty,  and 
which  I  have  hitherto  so  unwillingly  denied  thee. 
Good-night.  It  is  necessary  to  make  all  haste  in 
this  matter,  for  this  same  Tontorf  has  come  under 
suspicion  from  other  eyes  than  mine,  and  I  may 
yet  be  too  late." 

Caspar  d'Anastro  returned  to  the  burning  red 
light  of  his  private  cabinet,  and  bent  for  hours  over 
his  writing  table. 

At  daybreak  his  clerk  and  trusted  confidant, 
Venero,  departed  from  the  house  in  the  Rue  d'Au- 
gustin  with  a  sealed  letter  addressed  to  the  secre 
tary  of  her  highness  the  Duchess  of  Parma,  regent 
in  the  Netherlands  of  his  Catholic  and  Christian 
Majesty  Philip  II.,  King  of  Spain.  At  an  inn  in  a 
neighboring  street  Venero  called  for  a  horse  and 
w  xs  soon  on  his  way  to  the  city  of  Brussels. 


XVI 

A  SCRAP  OF  PAPER 

T  what  an'  if  you  have  been  here  with  us 
more  than  a  month,  Master  Norbert,  have 
you  not,  even  so,  ample  cause  for  content  ? " 
asked  Senora  Valerie  of  Norbert  on  a  morning  in 
early  June.  "  Says  not  Doctor  Hoekstra  daily 
that  our  dear  Jacqueline's  eyes  mend  apace  ?  " 

The  lady  was  watering  her  flowers,  cactus  and 
oleander  and  orange  trees,  in  the  small  garden 
enclosed  by  high  walls  at  the  rear  of  the  residence 
of  Anastro,  in  the  Rue  d'Augustin,  while  Norbert 
paced  the  narrow  walk  impatiently  with  knitted 
brows. 

"  Nay,  dear  lady,  pardon  me  if  I  seem  ungra 
cious,"  he  cried  with  sudden  boldness,  "but  in 
truth  I  am  not  content,  and  I  will  for  once  speak 
plainly.  Doubtless  Doctor  Hoekstra  is  skillful  and 
Jacqueline's  cure  goes  forward  as  rapidly  as  may 
be,  although  she  is  still,  as  at  first,  shut  up  with 
bandaged  eyes  in  that  dark,  stifling  room,"  and 
with  the  words  Norbert  glanced  up  at  the  closed 
fenestral  of  Jacqueline's  chamber,  "and,  as  it  seems 
to  me,  she  grows  ever  paler  and  weaker.  I  note 
"the  doctor  tarries  daily  for  conference  with  Senor 
Anastro  and  it  disquiets  me  somewhat.  Can  you 
inform  me  if  they  are  keeping  from  me  aught  con 
cerning  my  sister's  condition." 

Norbert  faced  Valerie,  who  was  slowly  walking 
by  his  side,  with  deep  anxiety  plainly  written  on 
his  face. 

She  smiled  a  soothing,  playful  smile  as  she  re 
plied  : 
170 


171 

"  That  can  I,  fond,  faithful  Norbert,  with  your 
grim  northern  fears  and  your  grave  anxieties. 
Can  you  never  learn  to  trust  your  friends  and  be 
at  ease  with  them  ?  Doctor  Hoekstra  has  told  me 
plainly  that  Jacqueline  was  surprising  him  by  her 
rapid  recovery,  but  it  is  a  case  which  must  take 
patience  for  many  weeks  to  come.  He  and  Senor 
Anastro  are  old  friends  and  enjoy  a  moment  now 
and  then  of  social  interchange  which  bodes  no  ill, 
believe  me,  to  your  sister.  Is  it  so  hard,  then, 
Norbert,  to  be  patient  ?  Are  you  not  made  one  of 
us  ?  We  have  become  so  fond  of  you  it  is  grievous 
to  feel  that  you  are  still  bursting  with  impatience 
to  leave  us,"  with  which  words  Valerie  shook  her 
head  with  charming  pensiveness. 

Norbert's  face  grew  gentler,  for  he  was  by  no 
means  insensible  to  the  senora's  bewitching  ways. 

"I  could  even  bear  the  long  inaction,  senora," 
he  said  soberly,  "  eager  as  I  am  to  be  free  to  join 
the  gentleman  who,  as  I  have  told  you,  has  granted 
me  the  honor  of  calling  me  to  his  service,  but  how 
can  I  or  how  could  any  man  patiently  endure  the 
life  I  live  in  Antwerp  ?  I  am  little  better  than  a 
prisoner,  and  that  you  yourself  know  perfectly. 
Every  step  is  guarded,  every  motion  watched.  I 
can  never  leave  this  house  without  procuring  the 
key  from  Senor  Anastro,  who  is  thus  cognizant  of 
all  my  movements  and  who  never  permits  me  to 
stir  abroad  unless  accompanied  by  one  of  his  serv 
ants.  I  like  it  not,  and,  by  my  faith,  I  will  not 
much  longer  submit  to  such  needless  and  humiliating 
surveillance  !  " 

Valerie  saw  in  the  indignant  eyes  of  the  young 
man  that  he  had  in  fact  reached  the  climax  of  re 
sistance  to  the  limitations  persistently  set  upon  him 
by  Anastro,  which  she  had  foreseen  was  inevitable 
sooner  or  later. 

"  Norbert,"  she  said  softly  and  with  a  serious 
gentleness  which  moved  the  young  man  far  more 


172 

than  her  gayer  words,  "  shall  I  tell  you  the  veri 
table  reason  for  the  surveillance,  as  you  call  it,  in 
which  you  are  held  ?  " 

"  I  know  the  reason  Senor  Anastro  gives  me," 
he  replied,  "  that  the  city  is  still  in  such  tumult 
that  it  is  dangerous  for  a  stranger  to  go  unattended  ; 
but  surely  my  safety  is  my  own  affair  rather  than 
his.  I  am  not  afraid  of  any  one  I  have  seen  in 
Antwerp  yet,"  he  added  with  a  touch  of  youthful 
bravado. 

Valerie  bent  her  head  and  concealed  a  curiously 
cold  smile  which  passed  over  her  face. 

"  That  reason  is  true,"  she  continued  in  the 
same  quiet  tone,  "  but  it  is  not  all  of  the  truth. 
It  has  been  rumored  of  you,  Norbert,  in  Antwerp, 
that  this  nameless  nobleman  whose  service  you 
have  told  me  you  are  about  to  enter  is  none  other 
than  the  Great  Absentee,  the  Prince  of  Orange 
himself,  and  that  your  real  purpose  in  Antwerp  is 
to  levy  troops  in  the  name  of  the  prince  to  share 
full  soon  in  a  general  uprising.  Now  Senor  Anastro, 
knowing  all  this  and  knowing  the  imminent  peril 
which  these  rumors  have  brought  to  threaten  you, 
stands  firmly,  even  in  spite  of  your  own  resistance, 
as  your  friend  and  guardian." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Norbert  to  himself,  "he  is  a 
Spaniard  and  a  Catholic.  It  is  passing  strange." 

Perhaps  the  thought  left  its  trace  in  his  frank 
face,  for  Valerie  continued  : 

"Senor  Anastro,  while  himself  a  good  Catholic, 
is  not  of  the  bigoted  strain,  which  can  see  no  good 
in  them  of  the  New  Religion,  for  such  we  divine 
you  to  be,  my  friend.  Antwerp  is  full  of  plots  and 
counterplots.  Catholics  and  Protestants  alike  be 
tray  each  other,  and  there  are  few  who  can  be 
trusted.  It  is  against  the  dangers  which  surround 
you  that  your  noble  host,  with  his  knowledge  of 
the  Antwerp  mob,  is  seeking  to  protect  you.  And," 
she  added  almost  tenderly,  "although  you  may  not 


173 

dream  it,  even  I,  weak  as  I  am,  have  used  all  my 
power  to  aid  you,  Norbert." 

Norbert  murmured  a  somewhat  formal  acknowl 
edgment,  being  indeed  less  impressed  with  the 
magnaminity  of  his  hosts  than  with  the  surprising 
nature  of  Valerie's  disclosure  as  to  the  suspicions 
concerning  himself. 

"Are  all  Hollanders  cold  and  impassive  like 
you?  "  asked  the  senora,  who  had  expected  more 
effusiveness  and  whose  face  showed  a  shade  of 
pique  at  Norbert's  evident  absorption. 

The  young  man  smiled  and  said  :  "  I  fear  you 
find  me  cold  indeed,  madame,  and  unresponsive." 

"  Perchance  your  heart  is  warmer  than  your 
words,"  suggested  Valerie  with  a  glance  of  coquet 
tish  challenge. 

"  Nay,  by  my  troth,  madame,  I  think  not,"  an 
swered  Norbert  stoutly,  courteously,  but  not  the 
less  palpably  indifferent  to  the  lady's  somewhat 
obvious  approaches.  "  These  times  are  ill-suited  to 
gallantries,  and  were  it  not  so  I  have  no  heart  for 
them.  I  myself  am  under  a  vow  to  the  service  of 
a  lady  in  a  distant  land,  not  as  lover,  look  you,  but 
as  servant ;  but  it  is  a  service  which  commands  my 
whole  heart." 

"  Ah,  is  it  so  ?  "  cried  Valerie  concealing  a  very 
pungent  sense  of  mortified  vanity.  "  Tell  me 
something  of  this  foreign  lady.  She  is  most  beau 
tiful,  I'll  wager,  at  least  in  the  eyes  of  her  bold 
knight,"  and  she  laughed  mockingly. 

"  I  have  never  seen  her,  madame,"  said  Norbert ; 
"  but  none  the  less  my  sword  and  my  service  belong 
to  her  if  ever  she  should  condescend  to  command 
them.  I  pray  you  excuse  me  now.  These  morning 
hours  pass  wearily  to  my  sister,"  and  with  a  re 
spectful  salutation  Norbert  hastened  and  entered 
the  house,  leaving  Valerie  alone  among  her  blos 
soming  oleanders  with  an  unpleasant  light  in  her 
eyes  and  a  slight  flush  on  her  cheeks. 


174 

Although  too  inexperienced  and  unsuspicious  to 
entertain  special  migivings  as  to  the  position  of  the 
senora  in  the  house  of  the  Spanish  merchant,  Nor- 
bert  had  responded  but  coldly  to  the  advances 
which  she  was  prompted  by  instinctive  coquetry  as 
well  as  by  other  considerations  to  make  toward  him. 
He  realized  at  every  moment  acutely  that  he  was 
placed  in  a  position  of  peculiar  peril  in  which  he 
must  never  for  one  moment  relax  his  vigilance. 

For  Anastro  himself  Norbert  had  grown  to  enter 
tain  a  species  of  respect  which  was  yet  deeply 
tinged  with  doubt.  His  manner  of  serious  and  even 
lofty  dignity  and  of  unvarying  kindness  toward 
himself  was  well  calculated  to  allay  suspicion.  And 
yet  Norbert  did  not  trust  his  host. 

The  ostensible  occupation  of  the  Spaniard  was 
that  of  importing  drugs  and  spices  and  in  those 
commodities  he  drove  a  fair  business  in  the  small 
shop  on  the  Rue  d'Augustin.  In  this  he  was 
assisted  by  his  confidential  clerk,  Venero,  and  by 
several  servants.  Norbert's  quick  perceptions, 
however,  grasped  the  fact  very  soon  that  apart 
from  his  regular  avocation,  Anastro  conducted  a 
variety  of  lines  less  reputable,  that  he  dabbled  in 
money  lending  and  usury,  in  a  dubious  sort  of  med 
ical  practice,  and  that  his  evenings  were  spent  in 
the  small  laboratory,  which  opened  from  the  Red 
Room,  in  experiments  which  Norbert  vaguely  fan 
cied  to  be  of  doubtful  beneficence. 

While  the  house  was  luxuriously  appointed,  its 
master  courteous  and  affable,  the  senora  charming, 
the  doctor  attentive  and  apparently  successful,  the 
servants  deferential,  there  was  one  inmate  of  the 
family  whose  sour  and  sullen  disfavor  toward  Nor 
bert  never  showed  change  or  softening.  This  was 
the  man  whose  initial,  surly  reception  of  them  in 
the  storm  and  darkness  Norbert  could  not  easily 
forget,  Venero,  the  trusted  and  confidential  clerk 
of  the  merchant. 


175 

Norbert  had  experienced  a  distinct  relief  in  not 
finding  this  man  upon  the  scene  the  morning  after 
their  arrival.  From  Senor  Anastro  he  had  received 
tidings  of  the  death  of  his  father's  friend,  Master 
Bouterwek,  in  the  house  over  the  way.  He  had 
found  himself  forced  by  Jacqueline's  condition  and 
the  imperative  orders  of  Doctor  Hoekstra  to  aban 
don  any  idea  of  seeking  another  lodging  as  he  would 
fain  have  done  among  people  of  like  faith  and  pur 
pose  with  his  own  family.  He  remained  therefore 
on  terms  of  guarded  watchfulness  in  the  house  of  a 
man  by  race  and  religion  hostile,  although  in  disposi 
tion,  as  it  appeared,  peculiarly  friendly  to  himself 
and  his  sister. 

Venero  had  returned  after  a  day's  absence,  but 
only  to  depart  again,  and  at  no  time  since  Norbert 
had  become  a  member  of  the  family  of  Anastro  had 
the  cashier,  as  he  was  usually  styled,  been  present 
for  more  than  a  few  days  at  a  time.  His  various 
short  journeys  were  explained  by  the  merchant  as 
being  taken  on  urgent  business  relative  to  a  large 
purchase  of  indigo. 

When  Norbert  reached  Jacqueline's  chamber  he 
found  that  Doctor  Hoekstra  had  just  left  after  assur 
ing  her  that  she  was  doing  well,  but  must  by  no 
means  leave  her  bed  nor  remove  the  bandages  from 
her  eyes.  She  complained  of  a  weary  sense  of 
weakness,  and  suddenly  sitting  up  in  bed  she  ex 
claimed  in  a  whisper  to  her  brother : 

"  Norbert,  I  believe  that  if  I  could  get  out  in  the 
free  air  and  once  have  all  I  want  to  eat  I  should 
now  be  as  well  as  ever  !  You  cannot  think  how 
hungry  I  am,  and  they  never  let  me  have  any  food 
stronger  than  these  little  blanc-manges  and  custards. 
I  long  for  a  good  hearty  meal,  and  if  I  could  have  it 
I  believe  I  could  leave  this  hateful  room  and  this 
wretched  town  and  go  home  to  my  dear  mother." 

Norbert  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  without  re 
plying,  a  sudden  and  startling  thought  for  the  first 


176 

time  stirring  to  life.  He  had  closed  the  door  on  en 
tering,  and  now  holding  it  with  his  hand  to  guard 
against  intrusion,  he  whispered  : 

"Jacqueline,  has  it  ever  entered  thy  mind  that 
this  long  bandaging  of  thy  eyes  might  be  needless  ? 
Hast  thou  tested  them  at  all  since  the  doctor  oper 
ated  on  the  lids  ?  " 

"No,  the  doctor  has  strictly  forbidden  me  to  do 
so." 

"  Never  mind  what  Doctor  Hoekstra  has  forbid 
den.  I  have  a  notion  he  will  spin  out  his  visits  as 
long  as  he  gets  a  good  gold  crown  for  each,  and 
mayhap  there  is  little  left  him  now  but  to  keep 
thee  from  growing  strong  and  to  keep  us  both  in 
the  dark.  Take  off  that  bandage,  little  sister,  and 
let  me  have  a  look  at  thy  eyes." 

Jacqueline  obeyed.  After  earnest  inspection  and 
a  series  of  simple  tests  they  were  both  satisfied  that 
the  eyes  were  indeed  weak,  but  that  the  serious 
trouble  was  at  an  end. 

"  It  is  even  possible,  Jacqueline,  that  they  would 
grow  strong  faster  now  were  they  left  unbound. 
This  hot,  heavy  bandage  to  my  mind  does  but  in 
crease  the  fever  and  weakness  in  them.  However, 
put  it  back  now,  lest  Valerie  notice  its  removal,  but 
instead  of  lying  here  growing  steadily  weaker,  take 
the  time  when  we  are  all  at  dinner  to  walk  about 
the  room  and  exercise  thy  limbs.  If  possible  I  will 
procure  thee  some  stronger  food  at  noon.  The 
fashion  of  thy  treatment  takes  on  a  new  and  sus 
picious  color  to  my  thought,  and  I  have  much  to 
consider,  for  I  greatly  misdoubt  that  we  are  no 
longer  guests  in  this  house,  but  blinded  and  deluded 
prisoners." 

As  he  entered  the  room  below  at  dinner  time, 
Norbert  found  the  family  increased  since  the  morn 
ing  by  the  arrival  of  two  persons.  Venero,  the 
cashier,  who  had  been  absent  now  for  several  days, 
had  returned  to  the  Rue  d'Augustin  within  the  hour, 


177 

and  a  young  Dominican  monk,  a  frequent  visitor, 
known  in  the  house  only  as  "the  padre,"  sat  down 
with  himself,  Valerie,  and  their  host  at  the  table. 

Norbert  found  his  eyes  involuntarily  drawn  again 
and  again  to  Venero,  whose  appearance,  ill-favored 
at  best,  had  never  impressed  him  as  so  repulsive  as 
at  this  hour.  His  face  showed  itself  as  haggard  and 
jaded  to  a  degree ;  his  shabby  doublet  was  weather- 
stained  and  soiled  ;  his  roughened  hair  and  glassy 
eyes  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  had  not  slept  for 
many  nights. 

To  Norbert's  greeting  he  replied  only  by  a  sullen 
nod  of  his  head,  not  even  lifting  his  eyes.  Norbert, 
however,  who  had  in  the  last  hour  received  a  new 
arousal  of  purpose  and  was  not  minded  to  be  easily 
daunted,  asked  after  a  few  moments  : 

"And  where  has  the  indigo  business  taken  you 
this  time,  Master  Venero  ?  " 

The  cashier  glowered  at  him  for  a  moment  with 
out  a  word.  A  slight,  hardly  perceptible  motion  of 
Anastro's  hand,  however,  seemed  to  admonish  him 
to  reply  and  he  accordingly  said  harshly : 

"  Only  as  far  as  Mechlin  this  time,"  and  there 
with  lapsed  again  into  morose  silence. 

Norbert  felt  throughout  the  meal  an  unwonted 
and  inexplicable  sense  of  oppression  which  he 
strove  to  shake  off,  as  well  as  to  conceal,  by  forc 
ing  himself  to  careless  talkativeness.  He  noted 
swift  glances  of  unknown  significance  now  and 
again  between  the  master  of  the  house  and  Valerie, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  that  a  strangely  sinister  ex 
pression  lurked  in  the  glittering  eyes  of  Anastro 
whenever  they  rested  upon  himself.  The  padre 
was  watchful,  given  to  bland  smiles,  but  unwontedly 
silent. 

The  more  Norbert's  vague  suspicion  was  aroused, 
and  the  more  ill  at  ease  he  became,  the  more  care 
less  and  confident  grew  his  demeanor.  As  they  all 
rose  from  the  table  he  declared  that  he  had  eaten 

M  - 


178 

so  heartily  that  he  must  take  a  little  exercise  in  the 
garden,  and  accordingly  singing  a  gay  little  song  he 
passed  through  the  narrow  hall  which  led  between 
the  kitchen  and  offices  to  the  garden  door. 

At  the  entrance  to  the  kitchen,  which  was  open, 
he  stopped  and  looked  in.  The  cook's  scullion,  a 
miserable  urchin  known  only  as  Juan  in  the  house 
hold,  was  cleaning  knives  at  a  low  bench.  The 
cook  herself,  a  stout  Fleming  with  white  cap  and 
apron,  stood  bare-armed  before  the  fireplace  pre 
paring  a  stew  of  meat  and  vegetables  for  the 
servants'  dinner.  Norbert  had  ingratiated  himself 
with  this  woman,  a  good-natured  body,  and  step 
ping  in  now  and  crossing  the  kitchen  to  where  she 
stood,  he  said  low,  but  in  broad  Flemish  dialect : 

"Look  you,  Kristel,  why  not  give  a  poor  fellow 
whose  appetite  is  never  still,  a  chunk  of  that  cold 
mutton  on  the  table  yonder  ?  That's  a  good  mopsy  ! 
By  four  of  the  clock  I  shall  be  as  hungry  as  a  wild 
boar,  and  marry  but  that  would  relish  !  " 

"  Well,  then,  jonker,  you  must  stir  the  mess 
here  for  me,"  the  cook  answered  in  her  thick,  husky 
voice,  laughing  and  stepping  to  the  table. 

"  Cock  sure  will  I  that,"  replied  Norbert  heartily, 
taking  the  great  iron  spoon  from  her  hand.  As  he 
did  so  his  eye  caught  sight  of  a  small  bunch  of  paper 
crushed  and  soiled,  at  the  edge  of  the  hearth  among 
the  ashes.  Something  in  the  character  of  it  gave 
him  a  strange  thrill  of  surprise  and  recognition. 
Bending  he  picked  up  the  paper,  asking  carelessly  : 

"See,  Kristel,  who  threw  this  ball  of  paper  in 
the  ashes  ?  Is  it  worth  aught,  think  you  ?  " 

"Nay,  Master  Tontorf,"  said  Kristel  hoarsely; 
"  it  is  not  worth  half  a  maravedi,  else  would  not 
Master  Venero  have  thrown  it  there  as  he  did  but 
now.  Trust  him  for  that.  There,  put  that  in  your 
pocket,  my  fine  cavaliei,  and  remember  poor  old 
Kristel  when  you  eat  it,"  and  therewith  she  placed 
in  his  hands  a  thick  wedge  of  the  cold  mutton. 


179 

"  Trust  me  for  that,"  whispered  Norbert  and 
accompanied  the  words  by  a  hearty  smack  on  the 
hard,  red  cheek  of  the  good  woman,  at  which  the 
boy  Juan  grinned  broadly.  Then  crowding  meat 
and  paper  both  into  an  inner  pocket,  he  made  haste 
to  reach  the  garden  in  time  to  avoid  being  found  in 
the  kitchen  by  Valerie,  who  almost  immediately 
appeared,  coming  out  to  gather  a  few  roses,  so  she 
said. 

An  hour  kter,  having  sustained  his  part  in  a  pro 
longed  conversation  with  the  sefiora,  Norbert  took 
refuge  upstairs,  first  giving  Jacqueline  the  mutton 
to  satisfy  her  ravenous  hunger  and  then  withdraw 
ing  to  his  own  cell-like  room. 

Here  he  lighted  a  candle  and  at  last  opened  the 
crushed  and  dusty  paper  which  he  had  snatched 
from  the  ashes  of  the  kitchen  fireplace.  As  he 
smoothed  it  out  on  his  knee  and  recognized  its 
familiar  aspect,  Norbert's  heart  beat  fiercely  with 
wonder,  doubt,  and  dread.  What  could  it  signify  ? 
The  paper,  which  was  a  small,  printed  sheet  an 
nouncing  a  new  edition  of  the  writings  of  Murmel- 
lius  by  the  house  of  Tontorf,  in  Middelburg,  was  the 
fac-simile  of  a  hundred  which  Norbert  well  remem 
bered  lying  in  a  pile  on  the  shelves  of  his  father's 
salesroom.  How  had  it  come  into  the  hands  of 
Venero  on  his  expedition  to  Mechlin  ?  Some  chance 
might  have  brought  it  about,  and  yet  Norbert  was 
seized  with  ominous  foreboding.  The  paper  he 
found  contained  a  few  crumbs  of  cake,  dry  and 
stale,  and  also  a  small  label  which  had  at  first  es 
caped  his  notice.  Holding  this  up  to  the  light  of 
the  candle,  Norbert  read  the  printed  name  of  a 
Middelburg  baker,  whose  shop  in  the  Lange  Delft 
was  nearly  opposite  his  father's  house. 

Instantly  the  truth  flashed  upon  his  mind  beyond 
the  reach  of  further  question.  Venero  had  been  in 
Middelburg,  not  in  Mechlin — what  were  lies  to  a 
varlet  like  him  ?  He  had  been  not  only  in  Middel- 


i8o 

burg,  but  had  been  in  the  Lange  Delft,  had  pur 
chased  food  at  the  shop  of  their  neighbor,  had  also 
visited  the  printery  of  his  father,  and  had  there 
casually  or  by  intention  obtained  the  printed  sheet 
used  later  to  wrap  his  food.  All  very  plain,  but 
what  then  ?  Norbert  asked  himself.  Why  should 
these  facts,  which  seemed  clearly  enough  indicated, 
cause  him  such  strong  alarm  and  agitation  ?  Why 
should  not  Venero  visit  Middelburg  and  the  Lange 
Delft  and  his  father's  house  ? 

A  moment's  thought  convinced  Norbert  that  in 
the  sinister  secrecy  of  the  expedition,  in  the  con 
cealment  of  it  by  sullen  silence  and  falsehood, 
there  lay  ample  reason  for  apprehension,  reason 
not  easily  to  be  argued  away.  Had  his  errand  to 
Middelburg  been  One  of  an  honorable  and  ordi 
nary  character,  why  had  Venero  not  informed 
him,  Norbert,  that  he  had  been  thither  ?  Why 
had  he  not  made  himself  the  bearer  of  letters  or 
messages  to  him  and  Jacqueline  from  their  father's 
house  ? 

With  his  mouth  hard  set,  but  with  resolute  qui 
etude  of  manner,  Norbert  now  re-entered  Jacque 
line's  room,  the  ill-boding  papers  hidden  in  the 
pocket  of  his  doublet.  He  found  his  sister  sitting 
up  in  bed,  her  eyes  unbandaged,  looking  almost  as 
bright  and  vigorous  as  before  her  illness. 

"  Little  sister,"  he  whispered,  sitting  down  on 
the  bed's  edge  and  taking  her  hand,  "think  over 
all  the  days  since  we  came  to  this  house  and  see  if 
thou  canst  recall  any  time  when  by  any  means 
thou  mayest  have  allowed  Senora  Valerie  or  Doctor 
Hoekstra  to  suppose  that  our  father  conducted  the 
secret  business  we  know  of  at  the  printery,  or  that 
our  place  was  used  for  the  meetings  of  the  congre 
gation  of  the  Fleur-de-lis?" 

Jacqueline's  eyes  dilated  with  sudden  alarm,  for 
the  very  quietness  of  her  brother's  manner  sug 
gested  a  strong  effort  of  self-control. 


"Oh,  Norbert,"  she  whispered,  "I  did— the 
night  we  came  here,  when  Valerie  found  my  little 
book  here  on  my  bosom  and  asked  me  concerning 
it  because  she  so  sadly  desires  to  have  one  herself, 
— 1  did,  yes  I  did  tell  her  that  father  printed  this 
one  and  that  I  would  send  her  one  better  and  larger 
when  we  go  home.  Was  that  wrong  ?  In  the 
morning  I  felt  afraid  and  in  doubt  about  it,  and 
although  she  has  often  since  tried  to  talk  with  me 
about  what  father  does  and  all,  I  never,  never  have 
spoken  again,  nor  mentioned  the  meetings  of  the 
Fleur-de-lis.  Oh,  Norbert,  why  dost  thou  look  so  ? " 
and  Jacqueline,  thoroughly  terrified,  burst  into 
tears. 

White  to  the  lips,  but  with  strong  self-command, 
Norbert  constrained  his  voice  to  gentleness,  and 
replied  : 

"  Do  not  cry,  Jacqueline.  We  must  act  now 
and  keep  our  heads  cool.  I  am  satisfied  that  some 
devilish  treachery  is  on  foot  concerning  my  father, 
and  that  we  must  leave  here  this  very  night,  if  pos 
sible,  and  get  to  Middelburg  in  time  to  give  him 
warning.  Thou  must  be  brave  and  strong  and 
steady  and  help  me  as  thou  canst.  Where  are  thy 
clothes  ?  "  and  Norbert  drew  out  from  a  chest  the 
saddlebags  in  which  Jacqueline  had  brought  a 
change  of  raiment  to  Antwerp.  Chest  and  bags 
were  alike  empty,  nor  was  there  to  be  found  in 
the  room  a  single  article  of  apparel  belonging  to  the 
young  girl. 

"  The  senora  has  looked  out  for  that,"  said  Nor 
bert  under  his  breath.  "She  has  played  her  part 
well  throughout,  but  she  has  not  wholly  blocked  us 
even  so,"  and  he  went  into  his  own  room  and 
quickly  brought  back  the  green  doublet  and  hosen 
which  he  had  worn  on  the  journey  to  Antwerp,  and 
which,  as  they  were  stained  by  rain  and  travel,  he 
had  laid  aside. 

"  There,  Jacqueline,"  he  said,  smiling  in  spite  of 


182 

the  stern  oppression  on  his  heart,  "  we  will  see 
what  a  soncy  lad  thou  wilt  make.  Stand  a  mo 
ment  !  See,  thou  art  not  two  inches  less  than  I, 
and  thy  half-long  locks  would  not  be  amiss  for 
either  man  or  maid.  So  !  Now  hide  these  things 
well  under  the  bedclothes.  Lie  upon  them  to  keep 
them  from  Valerie's  sharp  vision.  Tie  the  bandage 
again  upon  thy  eyes,  and  for  the  rest,  hold  thyself 
ready  when  the  time  comes  to  move.  It  may  not 
be  to-night.  In  sooth  I  know  not  how  we  shall 
ever  be  able  to  make  our  way  from  this  house, 
since  the  liberty  to  do  so  will  by  no  means  be  given 
us,  and  the  request  on  our  part  would  but  add  to 
our  perils.  How  about  this  door  ?  "  and  Norbert 
touched  the  latch  of  the  one  opening  upon  the 
corridor. 

"  It  is  always  locked  on  the  outside  at  night," 
replied  Jacqueline,  "but  no  key  is  left  to  be  seen 
by  day." 

"  Valerie  doubtless  keeps  the  key,"  said  Norbert, 
reflecting  anxiously.  The  obstacles  encompassing 
their  departure  from  the  house,  whose  hospitality 
they  had  so  ignorantly  sought,  seemed  at  the  mo 
ment  insurmountable,  but  the  dogged  courage  of 
the  young  Zeelander  rose  with  the  difficulties. 

With  buoyant  step  he  ran  down  the  staircase, 
dallied  for  a  moment  with  Valerie  in  the  parlor, 
then  saying  that  he  had  a  mind  for  a  stroll  along 
the  river  since  the  day  was  so  fine,  he  repaired  to 
the  shop  where  he  found  Anastro.  His  request  for 
the  key  of  the  house  door  was  promptly  complied 
with.  Anastro  himself  opened  the  door,  after  hav 
ing  summoned  the  man  who  was  usually  appointed 
as  escort  to  the  young  Middelburger,  and  thus  ac 
companied,  Norbert  was  soon  strolling  on  the  bank 
of  the  Scheldt,  where  the  dense  forest  of  masts  gave 
token  of  the  enormous  trade  of  the  city. 

Loitering  along,  Norbert  presently  recognized  a 
small  vessel  whose  skipper  he  knew,  a  vessel 


1*1 

which  plied  between  Antwerp  and  Middelburg  with 
fish  and  oil.  The  skipper  himself,  with  his  hands 
thrust  deep  into  his  breeches  pockets,  was  lounging 
on  the  deck  of  his  boat.  With  a  sudden  impulse 
and  access  of  boldness,  Norbert  stopped,  his  com 
panion  stopping  also,  and  shouted  a  greeting  to  the 
sailor. 

The  man  responded  with  a  cheery  holloa  and  an 
expression  of  surprise  at  seeing  Norbert  so  far  from 
home. 

"  When  do  you  set  sail  for  Middelburg  ?  "  called 
Norbert. 

"  To-night  with  sundown,  if  I  get  my  cargo  in 
time,  else  with  daylight  in  the  morning,"  was  the 
shouted  answer.  "  Better  come  with  us,  jonker. 
We'll  land  you  in  Middelburg  in  twenty-four  hours 
if  this  wind  holds.  You'll  scarce  find  a  better  boat 
nor  a  faster." 

"Thanks,  Master  Reuser,"  said  Norbert  gayly, 
"  I  know  your  boat  well  and  gladly  would  I  sail  with 
you  ;  but  not  on  this  voyage.  A  week  or  two  from 
now  it  may  be  thought  of.  I'll  promise  to  look  up 
your  boat  then  if  she  is  in  harbor." 

The  skipper  made  a  flourish  of  his  hands  in  ac 
knowledgment,  and  Norbert  and  his  escort  passed 
on. 

For  a  moment  the  temptation  to  give  the  fellow 
the  slip  and  board  the  Middelburg  craft  had  been 
overstrong.  His  heart  had  leaped  wildly  at  the 
thought  of  thus  speedily  and  unhindered  reaching 
his  father  and  giving  him  the  warning  which  he  felt 
to  be  so  urgently  required.  The  thought  of  leaving 
little  Jacqueline,  however,  in  her  lonely  prison,  for 
as  such  Norbert  now  fully  recognized  the  house  of 
Anastro,  sufficed  to  calm  his  sudden  impulse.  More 
over,  a  glance  at  the  fellow  by  his  side  had  shown 
him  a  swift  motion  of  his  hand  to  the  short  sword 
which  hung  at  his  belt,  and  he  concluded,  with  a 
strong  revulsion  of  feeling,  that  the  man  had  re- 


1 84 

ceived  orders  from  his  master  to  forcibly  prevent 
any  move  toward  escape  on  his  part. 

As  they  walked  along  the  river  a  sense  of  bitter 
and  vengeful  wrath  mounted  hotly  to  Norbert's 
brain.  He  saw  himself  tricked,  trapped,  deceived, 
betrayed,  and  held  fast  in  the  toils  of  the  Spaniard, 
•whose  artifice  and  craft  had  so  easily  gotten  the 
better  of  his  youth  and  inexperience.  On  and  on 
with  rapid  strides  he  walked  through  the  narrow 
streets  and  under  the  dark  shadows  of  the  houses, 
the  agent  of  Anastro  ever  dogging  his  steps,  the 
tempest  of  rage  ever  mounting  within  him.  Then 
unawares,  for  Norbert  had  paid  no  heed  to  the  di 
rection  he  took,  they  came  out  under  the  soaring 
spire  of  the  great  cathedral  whose  chimes  rang  out 
just  then  in  joyous  benediction  over  his  head. 

With  their  thrilling  peal  a  softer  feeling  came  into 
Norbert's  heart  and  subdued  his  fierce  anger.  The 
memory  of  holy  thoughts  and  sacred  words  of  love 
and  forgiveness  stirred  within  him,  and  with  it  his 
mind  grew  clear  and  steady,  and  with  all  the  power 
of  faith  of  which  he  was  possessed  he  cast  himself 
upon  the  Divine  love  and  protection. 


"  Over  this  brazier  stood  Anastro  in  his  long  black  gown." 

Page  187 


XVII 
THE  NIGHT  WORK  OF  SENOR  ANASTRO 

THE  evening  had  passed.     The  chimes  of  the 
cathedral,  distant  but  heard  distinctly  in  the 
Rue  d'Augustin,  had  rung  out  the  hour  of 
midnight  when  Norbert,  cautiously  pushing  open 
the  fenestral  of  his  sister's  chamber,  leaned  out, 
looking  down  into  the  shadowed  garden. 

Jacqueline,  fully  dressed  in  the  garments  with 
which  he  had  supplied  her,  but  covered  in  the  bed 
clothes  to  her  chin,  had  fallen  into  a  light  slumber, 
as  Norbert  could  see  by  the  faint  moon  rays  which 
qualified  the  darkness  of  the  room.  He  had  tried 
the  door  and  had  found  it,  as  he  expected,  securely 
locked  on  the  outer  side.  His  own  closet  pos 
sessed  no  window  and  no  other  door  save  that  which 
communicated  with  the  chamber  of  Jacqueline. 

Norbert  was  studying  quietly,  but  with  a  loudly- 
throbbing  heart,  what  means  might  be  within  his 
grasp  for  immediate  escape  from  this  ill-omened 
house,  means  such  as  were,  thus  far,  hard  to  dis 
cover. 

For  himself  he  had  a  brace  of  pistols  at  his  belt 
and  a  sharp  dagger  within  his  doublet.  Around  his 
waist,  inside  his  shirt,  he  wore  a  money  belt  which 
was  still  fairly  well  filled,  despite  the  heavy  drain 
of  the  doctor's  and  Anastro's  charges.  Such  were 
his  personal  resources,  to  which  might  be  added  a 
lithe  body,  a  stout  heart,  and  a  clear  head.  Jacque 
line,  he  was  sure,  could  be  counted  on  for  courage, 
for  obedience,  and  for  silence,  but  what  would  all 
these  resources  avail  if  no  means  were  to  be  found 
to  put  them  to  the  touch  ? 

185 


1 86 

The  chamber  was  in  the  second  story  of  the 
house.  Looking  down,  Norbert  took  keen  note  of 
the  ledges  of  the  windows  of  the  offices  immediately 
below  him.  They  projected  slightly.  To  let  him 
self  down  by  the  aid  of  them  into  the  garden  would 
be  difficult,  but  not  impossible  for  him,  but  for 
Jacqueline  ? — there  was  the  rub.  And,  once  down, 
to  scale  the  high,  blank  walls  of  the  garden  would 
be  hardly  less  difficult.  But  what  other  method 
offered  itself  as  even  remotely  possible  ? 

With  a  sudden  impulse  and  an  audacious  belief 
that  if  he  could  get  down  by  this  means  he  could 
also  return,  Norbert,  having  closed  the  door  of  his 
own  room,  swung  himself  lightly  out  of  the  window, 
and  by  hard  and  breathless  scrambling  with  hands 
and  feet,  ending  in  a  severe  but  not  serious  fall, 
found  himself  a  minute  later  on  the  garden  walk 
not  far  from  the  kitchen  door. 

To  his  keen  surprise  this  door  stood  open.  The 
night  was  breathless  and  sultry,  the  air  heavy  with 
thunder  from  clouds  which,  hanging  low,  inter 
cepted  the  moon's  rays  ever  and  anon. 

With  the  daring  bred  of  the  desperation  of  the 
hour,  Norbert  stole  noiselessly  into  the  kitchen, 
which  was  wholly  dark,  save  for  a  single  ray  of 
red  light  which  pierced  it  from  the  farthest  corner. 
As  his  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  gloom  Nor 
bert,  gazing  with  intense  eagerness  around  him, 
discerned  a  narrow  flight  of  stairs,  hardly  more 
than  a  ladder,  indeed,  which  he  at  once  concluded 
gave  access  to  the  servants'  sleeping  apartments. 
These,  he  knew,  extended  beyond  his  own  quar 
ters,  and  were  connected  with  the  main  corridor  of 
the  second  story  by  a  dark,  winding  passage,  the 
outlet  of  which  he  had  often  noticed,  near  Jacque 
line's  door.  This  was  a  discovery  worth  making, 
if  dubious,  for  Norbert  had  been  forced  by  his  own 
experience  to  wholly  abandon  the  hope  of  accom 
plishing  Jacqueline's  descent  by  the  window.  The 


187 

question  of  his  own  return  by  that  same  path  was 
causing  him  poignant  anxiety,  but  for  the  present 
he  determined  to  investigate  a  little  farther  in  the 
direction  of  that  red  light,  which  he  was  confident 
proceeded  from  the  laboratory  of  Anastro,  the  more 
since  from  time  to  time  he  heard  low  voices  coming 
from  the  same  direction. 

Groping  his  way  with  utmost  caution,  he  soon 
found  that  the  cook's  store-room  intervened  be 
tween  the  kitchen  and  the  source  of  the  light  toward 
which  he  was  working.  The  store-room  gained, 
he  discovered  that  the  light  streamed  through  a 
small  aperture  in  the  wall,  arranged  evidently  to 
connect  the  laboratory  with  the  kitchen  for  the  con 
venience  of  the  master  of  the  house. 

Stooping  low,  Norbert  was  able  to  look  through 
this  narrow  opening  and  command  a  small  portion 
of  the  laboratory.  The  door  of  it  stood  open  into 
the  Red  Room,  and  it  was  from  this  apartment  that 
the  light  and  the  murmur  of  voices  had  penetrated 
into  the  kitchen,  the  intervening  laboratory  being 
unlighted. 

A  faint,  sickening  odor  pervaded  the  place,  and 
despite  the  heat  Norbert  descried  in  the  Red  Room 
a  brazier  in  which  a  deep  bed  of  coals  was  burning. 
Over  this  brazier  stood  Anastro  in  his  long  black 
gown,  holding  in  one  hand  a  small  porcelain  box 
from  which  he  took  something  between  his  thumb 
and  finger,  something  which  he  slowly  and  care 
fully  sprinkled  upon  the  live  coals.  This  done,  he 
lifted  to  his  nostrils  a  large  sponge  and  withdrew 
out  of  sight.  And  now  a  cloud  of  steam  arose  pro 
ceeding  from  the  brazier  and  the  air  became  charged 
with  the  strange  odors  perceptible  before  in  a  slight 
degree. 

A  light  laugh  startled  Norbert.  He  had  not 
dreamed  that  Valerie  was  present,  nor  could  he  see 
her  now,  but  her  voice  though  muffled  was  un 
mistakable. 


i88 

"  Holy  Virgin,  senor!  "  she  exclaimed,  "  will  you 
put  an  end  to  us  all  first  ?  I  pray  you,  excuse  me. 
I  congratulate  you  on  your  success.  Another  mo 
ment  and  I  should  offer  in  my  own  person  full  proof 
of  it." 

Norbert  heard  a  door  softly  open  and  close  and 
supposed  Anastro  now  to  be  alone.  Dizzy  himself, 
with  the  mysterious  fumes  which  now  filled  even 
his  hiding-place,  he  leaned  against  the  wall,  his 
breath  coming  hard  and  fast,  and  a  strange  dimness 
clouding  his  vision.  A  sense  of  vague,  bewildering 
beauty,  of  nameless,  impossible  delight  surged 
through  his  brain.  He  felt  his  limbs  sinking  be 
neath  him  in  a  delicious  languor  which  he  cared  not 
to  resist.  Voices  seemed  to  ring  in  his  ears,  min 
gled  with  the  cathedral  chimes  and  a  great  onrush- 
ing  tide  as  of  many  waters.  Far  away  in  some  in 
calculable  distance  a  voice  like  that  of  Anastro 
seemed  saying  :  "  Come,  now,  it  is  all  over."  Then 
a  sound,  as  of  a  door  closing. 

"  It  would  suffice  to  kill  a  hundred  men." 

Who  was  it  that  spoke  ?  Surely  that  was  the 
voice  of  Venero,  harsh  and  menacing.  The  sug 
gestion  startled  Norbert  back  to  his  senses  and,  as 
the  fumes  slowly  escaped  from  the  narrow  closet 
and  the  air  cleared,  he  rallied  his  intelligence  and 
listened  again  as  for  his  life. 

"  Yes.  There  can  be  no  mistake  this  time.  My 
part,  Venero,  is  fulfilled.  All  depends  now  upon 
you." 

"Were  it  not  better  to  make  short  work,  and 
deal  with  both  ?  Two  heretics  less  were  better 
than  one." 

"Nay,  nay,"  was  the  impatient  answer,  and 
something  followed  unintelligible  to  Norbert's  ears 
as  both  men  now  apparently  had  turned  to  leave 
the  room. 

Still  for  another  second  Norbert  waited  with 
straining  ears  and  starting  eyes. 


He  saw  Anastro  as  he  passed  again  across  the 
field  of  his  vision,  rubbing  his  hands  slowly  to 
gether,  his  face  full  of  grave  reflection,  not  agitated, 
not  flushed  nor  excited. 

Then  again  the  door  was  opened. 

"Well,  Venero,  what  now?"  was  Anastro's 
question. 

"  I  returned,  senor,  only  to  say,  that  having  ac 
complished  the  errand  on  which,  please  remember, 
it  is  you  who  send  me " 

"On  which  I  send  you,  Venero,  and  for  which 
the  padre  has  fully  absolved  you,  pray  remember," 
and  a  touch  of  scorn  could  be  detected  in  Anastro's 
voice. 

"  Having  done  your  bidding,  if  it  please  you,  I 
will  not  return  hither  but  get  me  forthwith  to  bed. 
I  am  weary  beyond  reason  and  my  head  will  burst 
if  I  cannot  soon  sleep." 

"  Mort  Dieu!  what  care  I  what  you  do  when 
you  have  done  your  work,"  muttered  Anastro,  and 
again  the  door  closed. 

In  three  bounds  Norbert  was  up  the  steep  kitchen 
stairs  and  at  the  top  of  them  found  himself  in  a 
long  low  room  extending  over  the  kitchen  in  which 
he  dimly  discerned  several  beds.  Surely  there 
must  be  access  from  this  room  into  the  passage 
whose  outlet  he  had  so  often  seen  !  But  to  find  it 
in  this  darkness,  to  find  it  without  stumbling  and 
waking  one  of  the  servants  !  Was  it  not  to  attempt 
the  impossible  ? 

Falling  on  his  hands  and  knees  Norbert  felt  his 
way  along  the  floor  until  he  came  to  the  wall,  which 
he  followed,  groping  every  inch  of  the  way  for  the 
sign  of  a  door.  The  seconds  seemed  like  hours, 
the  close  darkness  seemed  to  enswathe  him  like  a 
mantle  and  clog  his  motions,  and  the  sense  that 
with  every  second  Venero  was  approaching  the 
chamber  where  Jacqueline  lay  in  her  innocent  un 
consciousness  almost  maddened  him.  Then  sud- 


icp 

denly  he  felt  a  break  in  the  smooth  surface  of  the 
wall  and  knew  it  for  the  frame  of  a  door.  Thanks 
be  to  heaven,  the  door  was  open  !  In  a  flash  he 
had  gained  the  dark  passage  and  creeping  stealthily 
along  its  winding  wall  in  another  instant  he  had 
reached  a  point  whence  he  could  command  a  view 
of  the  door  of  Jacqueline's  chamber,  dimly  lighted 
by  the  lamp  in  the  corridor. 

It  was  closed.  Absolute  stillness  was  upon  the 
place.  Was  he  too  late  ?  Where  was  Venero  ? 
Had  he,  Norbert,  been  moments,  hours,  or  only 
seconds  in  reaching  the  spot  ?  Norbert's  brain 
reeled  with  the  uncertainty,  but  even  then  soft 
footsteps  could  be  heard  approaching,  and  he  dis 
tinctly  heard  in  the  hush  of  the  midnight  the  door 
of  Valerie's  room  close. 

It  flashed  through  Norbert's  quickened  perception 
then  that  Venero  had  been  delayed  by  the  need  of 
securing  the  key,  which  was  doubtless  in  the  keep 
ing  of  Valerie,  and  he  thanked  God  and  braced 
himself  tensely  in  the  dark  shadow  where  he  stood 
for  what  should  follow. 

A  sudden  coolness  and  calm  came  to  him  as  it 
does  to  many  men  in  moments  of  crisis.  As  if  it 
were  quite  a  matter  of  course,  he  saw  Venero  ap 
proach  the  door,  holding  in  one  hand  the  brazier  of 
glowing  coals,  in  the  other  the  key.  He  saw  him 
unlock  the  door  and  softly  set  it  wide  open,  then 
turn  and  take  from  his  doublet  the  porcelain  box 
which  he  had  noted  just  now  in  the  hands  of  Anastro. 
He  saw  how,  with  a  swift  but  careful  hand,  he  scat 
tered  the  powder  with  which  the  box  was  filled 
upon  the  coals  ;  again  the  fumes  rose  slowly  about 
him  and  Norbert  saw  no  more,  but  he  followed 
hard  after,  with  one  swift,  noiseless  bound,  the 
form  of  the  cashier  almost  lost  now  in  the  en 
shrouding  mist  proceeding  from  the  brazier. 

As  he  entered  the  chamber,  Venero  was  in  the 
act  of  opening  the  inner  door,  and,  with  a  frenzied 


sense  of  exultant  release,  Norbert  perceived  that  it 
was  he,  not  Jacqueline,  who  was  to  have  been  the 
victim. 

In  the  darkness  Norbert  stood  motionless,  while 
with  stealthy  swiftness  the  Spaniard,  stretching  his 
arm  to  its  length,  placed  the  burning,  steaming 
brazier  inside  the  threshold,  nothing  doubting  that 
Norbert  was  quietly  sleeping  within.  Even  as  he 
did  so  a  swift,  stinging  blow,  as  from  a  hammer, 
struck  him  behind  the  ear,  knocking  him  instantly 
senseless,  and,  without  a  sound,  he  fell  in  a  miser 
able  heap  to  the  floor. 

"  Rise  instantly,  Jacqueline,  and  be  ready  to 
follow  me,"  said  Norbert,  and  the  young  girl  sprang 
from  her  bed,  awake  and  ready  on  the  instant, 
watching  with  speechless  amazement  as  her  brother 
tied  a  towel  tightly  around  the  gaping  mouth  and 
limp,  hanging  head  of  Venero,  pinioned  his  arms  to 
his  sides  with  his  own  belt,  and  then  opening  the 
closet  door,  dragged  or  rather  flung  him  on  the  bed. 

For  one  instant  then  Norbert  stood  irresolute,  but, 
in  the  school  in  which  he  had  been  taught,  revenge 
had  been  forbidden. 

Snatching  the  ewer  from  Jacqueline's  room,  he 
poured  its  contents  upon  the  brazier,  extinguishing 
its  fire  ;  then  he  closed  the  door,  locked  it,  and 
dropped  the  key  into  his  pocket. 

Struggling  fiercely  against  the  benumbing  power 
of  the  noxious  vapors  with  which  the  room,  despite 
the  open  window,  was  filled,  Norbert,  holding 
Jacqueline  hard  by  her  hand,  forced  himself  to 
pause  at  the  door  and  listen  a  second.  The  still 
ness  of  the  corridor  was  unbroken.  They  must 
dare  all  to  win  or  lose  within  the  moments  next  to 
follow. 

A  few  seconds  sufficed  to  close  and  lock  the  outer 
door,  the  key  of  which  Norbert  also  pocketed,  and 
then,  still  undiscovered,  brother  and  sister,  hand  in 
hand,  panting  and  dizzy,  but  still  undaunted,  fled 


down  the  darkness  of  the  narrow  passage  to  the 
door  by  which  Norbert  had  hardly  five  minutes 
before  emerged  from  the  servants'  room. 

"  Drop  on  thy  knees  and  keep  close  to  me," 
whispered  Norbert,  as  he  himself  set  Jacqueline 
the  example.  Suddenly  he  stopped,  for  against 
the  dim,  gray  square  of  a  window  the  outline  of  a 
head  was  lifted.  Juan  Jaureguy,  the  cook's  scul 
lion,  half-awakened,  sat  up  in  bed  for  an  instant, 
murmured  a  few  drowsy,  meaningless  words,  and 
dropped  again  upon  his  pillow.  More  stealthily 
than  before  the  two  crept  on  again  through  the 
long  room.  The  stairs  were  reached  at  last,  and 
in  another  moment  they  stood  in  the  dark  kitchen 
below. 

The  red  light  still  filtered  through  from  the  pan 
try  door,  but  the  place  was  still  and  the  outer  door 
yet  open.  Light-footed  as  creatures  of  the  field  or 
forest,  the  two  sprang  through  into  the  garden  and 
in  another  moment  were  safely  hidden  among  the 
clustering  oleanders  lining  the  high  wall.  Hardly 
had  they  reached  this  point  of  vantage  when  they 
saw  a  faint  light  moving  to  and  fro  in  the  kitchen, 
and  with  wildly  beating  hearts  they  beheld  the  tall, 
gaunt  figure  of  Anastro,  a  candle  in  his  hand,  framed 
in  by  the  kitchen  door.  Slowly  he  descended  the 
shallow  steps,  advanced  a  few  paces  into  the  path, 
then  turning,  gazed  fixedly  upward  at  the  open 
fenestral  of  Jacqueline's  chamber,  from  which  thin 
wreaths  of  steamy  vapor  still  floated. 

Norbert  pressed  his  sister's  hand  with  a  tense 
grasp. 

"  Do  not  tremble,"  he  breathed  in  her  ear ;  "  he 
has  heard  nothing." 

Apparently  satisfied  with  the  results  of  his  ex 
amination,  since  the  exhalations  told  that  Venero 
had  done  his  errand,  and  the  open  window  gave 
guarantee  that  Jacqueline,  whose  presence  might 
still  serve  his  diabolical  purpose,  would  remain 


I93 

unharmed,  the  Spaniard  returned  to  the  kitchen. 
They  heard  the  noise  made  by  the  rude  bar  with 
which  the  door  was  made  fast,  saw  the  tiny  light 
diminish,  and  then  all  was  dark,  and  the  hush  of  the 
garden  remained  unbroken. 

"God  helping  us,"  whispered  Norbert,  "we 
have  four  or  five  hours  now  in  our  favor.  The  next 
thing  for  us  to  do  is  to  take  this  wall.  What  may 
await  us  in  yonder  inn,  who  can  tell  ?  "  and  he 
looked  up  at  the  house  whose  upper  stories  rose 
dark  beyond  the  wall. 

"  We  can  do  it,  and  nothing  we  can  ever  meet 
can  be  so  bad  as  those  Spanish  people,"  whispered 
Jacqueline  firmly. 

A  new  spirit  and  courage  had  taken  possession  of 
the  young  girl,  stimulated  by  the  crucial  dangers 
through  which  they  had  already  passed  and  yet 
more  by  the  joy  of  at  last  being  free. 

Springing  upon  an  oleander  tub,  Norbert  gave  a 
mighty  leap  and  grasped  the  upper  edge  of  the  wall, 
which  was  not  less  than  ten  feet  high.  With  the 
agility  of  youth  and  much  practice  in  such  feats  he 
had  soon  swung  himself  to  the  top,  but  instantly 
fell  flat  upon  his  face,  measuring  his  length  upon 
the  stones. 

"  There  are  people  over  here,"  he  whispered 
cautiously  ;  "wait  a  bit." 

The  moments  passed  in  almost  unendurable  sus 
pense.  The  moonlight  which  filled  the  garden 
showed  Jacqueline  Norbert's  figure  still  flattened 
and  motionless  above  her  head.  Then  she  saw 
him  slowly  lift  one  finger  to  the  sky.  She  looked 
up.  A  black  cloud  of  enormous  bulk  was  sweeping 
upward.  Jacqueline  saw  and  her  confidence  was 
renewed.  Five  minutes  passed  and  then,  the  moon 
swallowed  up  in  the  black  folds  of  the  mantling 
cloud  and  its  light  extinguished,  Norbert  moved 
again. 

He  scrambled  to  his  knees  and  stretched  his  hands 

N 


194 

down  to  Jacqueline,  who,  holding  them  fast  in  hers, 
was  quickly  though  painfully,  with  many  scratches 
and  bruises,  drawn  up  to  his  side. 

Before  them,  in  the  house  whose  rear  court  they 
were  about  to  enter,  they  could  now  see  lights 
streaming  from  the  lower  windows,  doors  set  wide 
open,  and  could  hear  a  confused  sound  of  many 
voices  of  men. 

Leaping  to  the  ground,  Norbert  held  up  his  arms, 
Jacqueline  sprang  from  the  wall  into  them,  and 
they  now  stood  together  and  reconnoitered  the  situa 
tion. 

"I  have  taken  pains,"  whispered  Norbert,  "to 
observe  this  house.  It  faces  on  a  street  which 
leads  something  directly  down  to  the  river,  and  we 
must  pass  through  the  house  to  reach  the  street. 
There  is  no  other  way.  It  is  an  inn,  but  one  of  a 
somewhat  doubtful  character,  I  have  been  told. 
Closed  and  silent  it  is  through  the  day  much  of  the 
time,  as  I  have  myself  noticed.  The  goodman, 
however,  seems  to  do  a  thriving  business  at  night. 
I  have  my  own  suspicion  that  it  is  a  resort  of 
Gueux.1  In  any  case,  Jacqueline,  our  only  hope 
now  is  to  swagger  it  through.  Be  bluff  and  bold. 
Do  not  shrink  from  thy  part,  but  chance  it  cheer 
ily  ;  use  thy  wits  and  we  shall  win  through.  Now, 
forward !  " 

In  another  moment,  with  an  air  of  careless  con 
fidence,  the  two  had  entered  the  rear  door  of  the 
brightly  lighted  public  room  of  the  inn,  their  en 
trance  scarce  observed  among  the  many  coming 
and  going.  The  host,  however,  Norbert  noticed, 
followed  them  steadily  with  his  eye  from  his  place 
behind  two  great  kegs  of  ale.  The  room  was  well 
filled  with  gentlemen  drinking  and  dicing,  the  air 
redolent  of  the  fumes  of  wine  and  spirits  and  filled 
with  noisy  revelry. 

1The  Beggars  or  Revolutionary  party  in  the  Netherlands. 


195 

Norbert  lounged  easily  down  the  room,  followed 
by  Jacqueline,  who  held  her  head  gayly,  thrust  her 
hands  deep  in  her  pockets,  and  even  whistled  a 
blithe  little  tune  as  she  looked  fearlessly  about  her. 

"  Holloa,  jonker !  "  cried  a  cavalier,  glancing 
up  from  his  game  of  venter  point  as  they  passed, 
"  has  Brederode  come,  know  you  ?  " 

"  Nay,  messire,"  replied  Norbert,  doffing  his 
cap,  "  but  I  heard  outside  that  he  was  on  his  way 
hither.  I  will  e'en  look  down  the  street  and  see  if 
he  be  not  in  sight.  He  should  be  ere  this,"  and 
he  moved  toward  the  door,  one  eye  uneasily  keep 
ing  watch  of  the  landlord. 

"Do,  if  you  will,  jonker,"  replied  the  other, 
carelessly  returning  to  his  flagon  of  Rhenish  and 
his  game.  "  The  Great  Beggar  is  late  to-night. 
We  have  waited  on  his  motions  a  full  hour  al 
ready." 

Norbert  and  Jacqueline  now  quickly  gained  the 
door  of  the  inn  room,  which  opened  upon  a  narrow 
entry,  giving  exit  to  the  street. 

As  the  door  swung  to  behind  them  they  saw 
standing  at  the  street  door,  which  he  held  open 
with  one  hand,  a  man  of  burly  and  coarse  figure, 
richly  dressed,  with  long,  curling  locks,  a  striking 
face,  features  bold  and  handsome,  but  purple  and 
coarsened  by  debauchery.  In  his  right  hand  he 
held  the  reins  of  his  horse,  which  Norbert  could 
dimly  discern  standing  just  beyond  him  in  the  dark 
and  narrow  street. 

"  Body  o'  me,  lad,  come  hither  and  hold  my 
horse  !  "  cried  this  notable  personage  imperatively, 
adding  a  bewildering  string  of  oaths.  "  Here  have 
I  stood  now  a  full  minute,  pounding  on  this  door  and 
never  a  varlet  to  answer  my  summons.  I  was 
promised  here  a  good  hour  since,  but  such  a  coil  as 
I  have  had  to  hinder  me,  and  when  at  last  I  could 
start,  not  a  devil  of  a  servant  was  to  be  found  !  " 

Norbert  had  already  taken  the  reins  from  the 


196 

hand  of  the  Seigneur  de  Brederode,  for  in  the  cava 
lier  before  him  he  instantly  recognized  the  notorious 
leader  of  the  Beggars,  the  wild,  reckless  descendant 
of  the  sovereign  counts  of  Holland.  That  he  had 
been  during  the  preceding  months  ceaselessly  en 
gaged  in  the  enterprise  of  secretly  enrolling  troops 
for  an  attack  upon  the  Spanish  troops  in  the  towns 
of  Walcheren  was  well  known  to  Norbert.  His 
presence  in  this  obscure  Antwerp  inn  to  meet  such 
a  company  was  wholly  in  character. 

"  Can  you  stand  for  me  here  an  hour  or  two,  my 
lad  ?  "  asked  Brederode,  as  he  pushed  open  the 
inner  door,  too  impatient  for  long  parley  ;  "  Beggars 
pay  in  gold  sometimes,  you  know,"  he  added  with 
a  careless  laugh. 

"Gladly,  gladly,  my  lord,"  returned  Norbert 
with  hearty  emphasis  ;  "  and  you  can  pay  in  silver, 
or  pay  not  at  all,  as  you  please.  It  were  little  to 
do  for  the  cause,"  he  added  in  a  lower  voice. 

"Right,  youngster,  right,"  answered  Brederode, 
and  paused,  albeit  impatiently.  "  I  see  you're 
made  of  the  right  stuff.  Have  you  enrolled  with 
any  of  my  men  ?  You're  of  fighting  age,  and  that 
young  brother  of  yours  is  old  enough,  methinks,  to 
wear  a  sword." 

"  I  have  entered  the  service  of  the  prince,"  said 
Norbert,  sinking  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  "  and  shall 
soon  be  on  my  way  to  Germany." 

"  Hah,  sits  the  wind  in  that  quarter  ?  "  cried  the 
great  seigneur;  "take  my  loving  greeting  then  to 
the  Nassaus,  but  bide  not  over  long  in  Germany. 
Bid  them  hurry  back.  There  will  be  wild  work 
here  ere  long,"  and  with  the  words  the  door  closed 
upon  his  burly  figure. 

Norbert  and  Jacqueline  now  stepped  into  the 
street,  closing  the  inn  door  behind  them.  The 
reins  of  Brederode's  horse,  a  spirited,  blooded  crea 
ture,  were  over  Norbert's  arm.  In  silence  and  deep 
thought  he  stood  for  a  moment. 


I97 

"  Jacqueline,"  he  said  at  last,  "  there  is  but  one 
way  for  us,  much  as  I  mislike  it.  My  lord  of 
Brederode  must  wait  a  week  or  two  for  his  horse. 
Mount,"  and  therewith  he  held  out  his  hand  and 
Jacqueline  mounted  at  once,  then  Norbert  leaped 
into  the  saddle  and  touching  the  animal  a  light  flick 
of  the  reins,  they  dashed  down  toward  the  river. 

"  Is  it  not  wicked,  Norbert  ?  "  whispered  Jacque 
line,  terrified  at -this  procedure. 

"Very,"  replied  Norbert,  too  much  absorbed  in 
the  immediate  solution  of  the  problem  of  their  in 
stant  departure  from  Antwerp  to  canvass  the  moral 
aspects  of  the  step  he  had  felt  forced  to  take. 

Without  hesitation  they  directed  their  course  to 
the  Scheldt  and  to  the  ship  of  Master  Reuser.  Dis 
mounting,  Norbert  left  Jacqueline  to  hold  the  horse, 
and,  dropping  over  the  edge  of  the  rude  wharf  to 
the  deck  of  the  vessel,  he  hailed  the  watch  with  a 
curt  command  to  knock  up  the  skipper  on  the  in 
stant. 

Stupid  and  drowsy,  Master  Reuser  presently 
stumbled  up  the  hatchway,  his  sharp  surprise  at 
seeing  Norbert,  however,  making  him  instantly 
wide  awake. 

In  a  brief,  whispered  colloquy  the  young  man 
now  offered  the  ship's  master  a  sum  of  money  so 
large  as  to  completely  dazzle  the  worthy  man  if  he 
would  up  sail  and  start  down  the  river  without  a 
moment's  delay,  taking  as  passengers,  so  far  as 
Hoedenskerke,  himself,  his  young  cousin,  and  his 
horse. 

The  slowness  of  the  phlegmatic  sailor  in  reaching 
a  decision  produced  perhaps  the  most  painful  crisis 
of  the  night's  experiences  to  Norbert.  At  every 
sound  he  felt  the  approach  of  a  pursuer,  and  his 
eyes  stared  painfully  into  the  darkness  to  discern 
Jacqueline  still  waiting,  still  in  safety. 

"  But,  my  young  sir,"  said  Master  Reuser  at 
last,  "  what  an'  if  we  do  drop  down  the  river  a 


1 98 

league  or  so  ?  We  can  make  no  progress  till  the 
tide  turn,  for  this  wind  is  hardly  enough  to  fill  a 
flag.  We  could  but  anchor  under  Osterwell  and 
wait  for  day." 

"That  is  all  I  ask,"  cried  Norbert  eagerly. 
"  You  admit  that  your  cargo,  though  late  in  com 
ing,  is  now  complete.  You  hear  my  offer,  my 
good  friend.  You  know  my  father's  son  would  not 
ask  you  to  go  on  a  fool's  errand.  What  I  ask  is 
'  under  the  cross.'  What  say  you  ?  " 

Norbert  believed  that  the  sailor  was  at  heart 
a  Beggar,  and  he  determined  to  risk  this  last  ap 
peal,  well  as  he  knew  the  danger. 

The  captain  turned  quickly  on  his  heel. 

"  Pipe  up  the  men,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  man 
on  the  watch.  "  Tell  them  to  make  small  noise 
about  it,  but  get  her  under  weigh  quicker  than  ever 
they  did  before." 

Then  turning  to  Norbert,  who  was  already  climb 
ing  back  to  the  wharf,  he  said  softly  : 

"  I  conceive  you,  sir.  Your  haste  is  for  the  cause, 
either  to  save  life  or  country.  That  is  enough. 
You  can  command  me." 

Jacqueline  and  the  good  steed  of  the  Baron  of 
Brederode  were  soon  safely  conveyed  to  the  deck 
of  the  vessel,  and,  to  Norbert's  indescribable  relief, 
they  found  themselves  in  half  an  hour  slowly  slip 
ping  down  the  river. 

Anchoring  a  few  leagues  down  stream  beneath 
the  walls  of  the  small  village  of  Osterwell,  where, 
but  three  months  before,  the  patriots  under  young 
Marnix  had  met  such  a  bloody  death,  they  were 
ready  to  take  early  advantage  of  the  turning  tide. 

With  the  first  dawn  of  day,  under  a  fair  and  fa 
voring  breeze,  they  set  sail  for  the  village  of  Hoe- 
denskerke,  whence  the  horse  of  the  Seigneur  de 
Brederode  and  a  ferry  across  from  Beveland  to 
their  own  island  of  Walcheren  would  bring  them  in 
a  few  hours  to  Middelburg. 


XVIII 

IN  THE  KING'S  NAME 

r"PHEY  had  left  their  horse  outside  the  city  gates 
to  be  stabled  for  the  night  and  sent  back  to 
the  lord  of  Brederode  in  the  morning. 

Under  the  stars  of  the  sweet  June  night  they 
stood,  Norbert  and  Jacqueline,  at  the  carved  portico 
of  the  house  in  the  Lange  Delft.  At  last  they  were 
at  home.  The  house  was  dark,  however,  and 
strangely  still,  as  still  as  the  house  plague-visited 
at  whose  door  they  had  knocked  in  vain  two  months 
since  in  Antwerp. 

"  Norbert,"  said  Jacqueline,  with  a  strange  tre 
mor  in  her  voice,  "  what  is  that  fastened  across  the 
door  ?  Look  !  It  is  a  chain." 

Yes,  a  chain  fastened  by  a  padlock,  a  padlock 
sealed  and  stamped  with  the  king's  arms,  the  cog 
nizance  of  Philip,  by  the  grace  of  God  king  of  Spain 
and  the  Netherlands. 

Norbert's  heart  gave  one  mighty  leap  and  then 
stood  still.  For  an  instant  they  stared  at  one  an 
other  as  if  paralyzed.  Then  taking  Jacqueline's 
wrist  in  a  grasp  which  was  like  that  of  a  vice,  Nor 
bert  hurried  out  from  the  portico  and  around  the 
street  corner,  down  the  dark  alley  to  the  vaulted 
entrance  to  the  courtyard. 

In  a  house  across  the  narrow  way  a  casement 
window  was  pushed  open  then  and  a  light  curtain 
blew  out  in  the  wind  of  the  summer  night. 

They  had  reached  the  inner  gate  of  wrought  iron 
now  with  its  gilded  crest  of  the  Tontorfs.  Through 
its  grating  they  could  look  into  the  moonlit  court 
yard,  most  familiar,  most  dear,  and  yet  wearing 

199 


2OO 

now  a  cold,  unresponding  emptiness.  The  long  low 
buildings  with  their  ivied  walls  and  their  many  win 
dows,  darkly  mysterious,  seemed  to  stare  at  them 
as  if  they  were  strangers.  Nowhere  was  welcome, 
no  light  burned  for  them,  no  eye  watched. 

Norbert  passed  his  hand  across  the  iron  gate  and 
felt  a  chain.  On  the  chain  was  a  padlock,  and  on 
the  padlock  the  seal  of  the  majesty  of  Spain. 

Then  there  was  a  step  behind  them  and  Hen- 
drika,  the  faithful  servant,  stood  in  the  deep  shadow 
of  the  vaulted  entrance  and  wept. 

"Come,"  she  said.  "I  have  watched  for  you. 
Come.  You  must  not  be  seen  here,"  and  she  led 
them  across  the  dark  lane  and  into  the  open  door 
of  a  house  of  the  humbler  sort.  Upstairs  they  fol 
lowed  her  to  a  garret  room  without  a  window. 
Here  Hendrika  gave  them  seats  and  set  down  her 
flickering  candle  on  a  broken  stool. 

Then  they  saw  that  her  eyes  were  well-nigh 
washed  away  in  tears  and  her  poor  face  deeply  fur 
rowed,  changed  to  that  of  an  aged  and  woe-worn 
woman. 

"  Children,  dear  young  master,  precious  little 
Juffrouw  Jacqueline,  I  cannot  talk  about  it.  It  is 
more  than  can  be  borne,"  and  she  burst  into  bitter 
weeping.  "  All  are  gone,  all,  all  !  " 

"Gone  where?"  Norbert  spoke  at  last.  He 
was  as  if  paralyzed.  Were  they  too  late  ?  Had  the 
bitter  struggle  they  had  made  availed  naught  ? 

"To  God,  dear  young  master,"  and  Hendrika 
sobbed  wildly.  "  Saints  in  heaven  are  they  now, 
my  master,  my  mistress,  my  angel,  little  lady 
Helma!" 

"Hendrika,"  said  Norbert  steadily,  "you  must 
be  quiet  and  tell  me  if  it  is  surely  too  late  for  me  to 
strike  a  blow  for  them  yet."  The  thing  was  mon 
strous,  incredible  !  He  refused  to  believe  it.  Such 
things  were  doubtless  of  daily  occurrence  in  the 
stricken  country,  but  not  to  them,  his  own,  his 


201 

dearest,  noblest,  best  beloved.  Such  a  doom  could 
not  have  come  thus  swiftly,  thus  awfully  ! 

"Too  late,"  wailed  Hendrika ;  "oh  yes,  too 
late.  Pastor  Droust  and  Mijnheer  Heldring  went 
after  them  to  the  Hague  and  would  fain  have  inter 
posed,  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  The  warrant  was 
served  by  the  servants  of  the  regent  herself.  The 
complaint  had  been  lodged  they  say  in  due  form 
with  the  authorities  in  Brussels." 

"  By  whom  was  the  complaint  made  ?  " 

"  No  one  knows  !  " 

"When  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"  Four  days  ago  we  were  routed  out  of  bed  at 
daybreak  and  searched  and  examined  as  to  our  re 
ligion  and  our  loyalty.  The  master  and  Mevrouw 
Tontorf  and  the  dear  Juffrouw  Helma  and  the  book 
keeper  were  the  only  ones  taken  into  custody.  Oh, 
but  the  wretches  went  everywhere  searching  for 
Bibles  and  such  like  tokens,  but  not  one  could  they 
find.  They  were  securely  hid,  even  from  our  own 
people." 

"Was  there  among  these  officials  a  man  who 
spoke  with  a  Spanish  accent ;  a  man  of  dark  brow 
and  evil,  lowering  glance  ;  a  man  clad  in  a  brown 
doublet,  much  stained  and  worn  ?  "  asked  Norbert 
with  stifled  voice. 

"Oh,  yes!"  cried  Hendrika.  "He  was  the 
worst,  the  most  pitiless  and  bitter  of  all.  He  had 
an  evil  eye  and  most  determined  was  he  to  find 
some  trace  of  printed  heresy." 

"Go  on,"  said  Norbert.  His  arms  were  around 
Jacqueline's  waist,  her  head  had  sunk  upon  his 
shoulder. 

"  I  cannot,  dear  young  master,  I  cannot  !  It  is 
too  terrible  !  Others  will  tell  you  of  their  glorious 
death,  for  so  it  was,  in  full  faith  and  constancy.  To 
have  a  father  and  mother  who  wear  the  martyr 
crown  is  not  that  greater  glory,  dear  master  Nor 
bert,  than  if  they  wore  a  kingly  one  ?  " 


202 

"  Hendrika,"  said  Norbert,  rising  with  the  calm 
ness  of  despair  and  untwining  Jacqueline's  arms 
from  his  neck.  "  Care  you  for  the  child.  You  see 
she  is  fainting.  I  must  visit  the  pastor  and  know 
all  that  he  can  tell  me." 

"  Go  to  Mijnheer  Heldring,  the  cloth  syndic. 
He  was  ever  your  father's  friend,  and  he  also 
went  to  the  Hague  and  showed  himself  loyal  and 
courageous.  He  can  tell  you  all,"  interposed  Hen 
drika. 

"Rather  will  I  go  to  Pastor  Droust, "  said  Nor 
bert.  "  He  went  with  them  also,  you  say." 

"Yes,  Master  Norbert;  the  poor  man  was  with 
them  to  the  very  end.  But  go  not  to  him — not 
now,"  and  Hendrika  began  to  sob  and  wring  her 
hands. 

"  Wherefore  should  I  not  ?  " 

"  The  sight  of  it,  the  shock  of  it,"  moaned  Hen 
drika,  "have  crazed  him.  He  is  wild  and  wander 
ing  in  his  speech,  and  has  neither  slept  nor  eaten 
since  that  dreadful  day.  '  Doom  and  darkness  ! 
Doom  and  darkness  ! '  he  cries  incessantly.  It  is 
better  that  you  should  not  see  him." 

For  a  moment  Norbert  stood  as  if  stupefied  and 
then  staggered  out  into  the  night,  determined,  if  it 
took  his  own  life  or  reason,  to  know  the  story  to  its 
last  dregs  of  agony. 

Until  daybreak  he  sat  with  the  kindly  syndic, 
Heldring,  the  faithful  friend  of  Nikolaas  Tontorf, 
who  had  accompanied  the  doomed  family  to  the 
Hague. 

All  that  Heldring  could  say  but  confirmed  Hen- 
drika's  story  and  filled  out  with  heartrending  details 
the  awful  outline  which  she  had  given.  From  the 
scene  of  martyrdom,  it  was  but  too  true,  the  faith 
ful  pastor  and  devoted  friend  of  the  Tontorf  family 
had  returned  with  heart  broken  and  reason  shat 
tered. 

As   for   details,   the   complaint   had   been    duly 


2O3 

lodged  and  credibly  certified  by  citizens  of  names 
unknown  of  Antwerp  that  Nikolaas  Tontorf  printed 
and  distributed  Bibles  and  hymnals  at  his  estab 
lishment  at  Middelburg,  where  he  also  permitted 
gatherings  of  malcontents  and  heretics  and  harbored 
and  succored  such  persons.  On  this  complaint 
the  printer  and  his  family  had  been  arrested  and 
conveyed  to  the  Hague.  Neither  the  master  nor 
his  wife  nor  daughter  could  or  would  deny  the 
charges,  which  were  furiously  pressed  by  one  Ve- 
nero,  who  had  been  sent  as  witness  by  the  regent 
from  Brussels.  The  trial  had  taken  place  imme 
diately  upon  their  arrival  at  the  Hague.  They  had 
all  four  been  lodged  for  the  night  in  the  Gevangen- 
poort,  where  they  had  spent  the  night  in  singing 
hymns,  repeating  portions  of  Scripture,  and  in 
prayer,  praying  most  of  all  for  the  beloved  absent 
children. 

At  daybreak  they  had  been  led  to  the  scaffold 
erected  in  the  Binnenhof,  and,  with  majestic  forti 
tude  and  unfailing,  fearless  faith,  had  faced  and 
tasted  death. 

"  No  one  who  looked  upon  them,"  said  Mijnheer 
Heldring,  "  could  pity  them,  but  rather  envy  them 
that  they  witnessed  so  good  a  confession  and  met 
a  death  in  which  they  seemed  to  find  no  sting.  If 
you  could  but  have  seen  the  look  on  your  father's 
face  !  He  saw  what  others  saw  not.  His  last 
words  were,  'Master,  I  come.'  As  for  Helma,  her 
face  was  like  the  face  of  a  bride  going  out  to  meet 
her  husband — serene,  high,  and  of  a  seraphic  sweet 
ness.  Your  mother  alone  wept,  but  it  was  not  for 
herself,  nor  even  for  those  who  tasted  martyrdom 
by  her  side." 

"  I  know,"  said  Norbert  softly.     "  It  was  for  us." 


XIX 
"  AS  A  WOODCOCK  TO  MINE  OWN  SPRINGE  " 

AT  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  in  the  house 
in  the  Rue  d'Augustin,  Senor  Anastro  was 
stirring. 

Too  restless,  too  eager  to  know  the  results  of  his 
experiment  to  await  the  appearance  of  Venero,  who 
was  not  likely  to  present  himself  for  an  hour  or  two 
longer,  the  Spaniard  soon  proceeded  to  the  chamber 
of  the  cashier. 

Opening  the  door  cautiously,  Anastro  looked  into 
the  room  only  to  find  it  empty  and  the  bed  undis 
turbed. 

For  a  moment  the  Spaniard  stood  irresolute, 
wholly  unable  to  explain  to  himself  this  surprising 
turn  of  affairs.  Then,  with  swift  steps,  he  hastened 
to  Jacqueline's  door,  which  he  found  locked,  as  he 
expected,  and  the  key  gone. 

Valerie's  room  was  next  visited,  but  here  a  new 
surprise  awaited  the  master  of  the  house.  Ve 
nero  had  not  brought  back  the  key  to  her.  In  fact, 
she  told'  Anastro  that  she  had  requested  that  he 
should  not  disturb  her  again  that  night.  The  less 
she  knew  about  the  proceedings  the  better  it  suited 
her. 

The  present  whereabouts  of  the  cashier  now 
became  a  matter  of  intense  nervous  anxiety  to 
Anastro.  That  he  had  not  left  the  house  the  close- 
barred  outer  doors  and  windows  seemed  to  give 
full  proof. 

"Where  is  he?"  Anastro  hissed  between  his 
teeth,  standing  with  cadaverous  face  and  haggard 
eyes  in  the  middle  of  the  Red  Room  in  the  gray 
204 


205 

early  light.  "  What  has  been  going  on  here  ?  "  and 
he  bent  a  malevolent  glance  of  suspicion  upon  Va 
lerie,  who  had  followed  him  downstairs,  wrapped 
in  a  rich  purple  robe,  her  hair  streaming  over  her 
shoulders,  her  white  feet  bare. 

"  You  grew  a  trifle  amorous,  methinks,  over  that 
same  yellow-haired  Dutch  varlet,  senora.  If  there 
has  been  treachery  here  in  my  own  house  make 
sure  I  shall  sift  it  to  the  bottom,  and  that  speedily  !  " 

Valerie  faced  him  without  flinching,  with  a  hard 
little  laugh  and  a  slight  yawn,  whether  real  or  pre 
tended,  no  one  could  have  guessed.  She  was  born 
an  actor. 

"My  good  friend,"  she  said,  "you  are  some 
thing  wild  in  your  guessing  this  morning.  I  fear 
you  have  not  slept,  or  that  the  fumes  of  your  mar 
velous  discovery  have  found  lodgment  in  your  own 
brain.  The  jonker  was  not  ill-looking,  but  a  more 
churlish  wight  in  his  attendance  upon  a  lady  saw  I 
never.  Truly  he  wearied  me  too  much  that  I 
should  take  his  part,  the  simpleton  !  prating  of  his 
lady  whom  he  had  never  seen,"  and  the  venomed 
glance  of  Valerie's  dark  eyes  satisfied  the  Spaniard 
that  if  her  devotion  to  himself  were  wavering  her 
spite  would  yet  have  kept  her  true  to  his  interest. 

"But  the  question  is,"  he  cried  impatiently, 
"  where  is  Venero  at  this  moment  ?  " 

"  Doubless  locked  into  one  room  or  the  other  of 
those  luckless  babes,  who  may  be  pardoned  if  they 
over-sleep  this  morning  by  an  hour  or  two,"  re 
plied  Valerie  with  a  heartless  laugh.  "  It  may  even 
be  that  the  very  worthy  Venero  is  caught  in  his  own 
trap." 

The  idea  seized  Anastro  at  once  that  she  was 
right,  that  the  cashier  had  locked  the  outer  door 
upon  himself  after  entering  Jacqueline's  room,  and 
then,  overcome  by  the  fumes  of  the  burning  pow 
der,  had  been  rendered  powerless  to  leave  the  fate 
ful  spot. 


206 

Selecting  two  or  three  tools  from  a  case,  Anastro 
quickly  returned  to  the  upper  corridor,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  had  succeeded  in  forcing  the  lock  of  Jac 
queline's  chamber  door. 

The  morning  light  and  the  pure  air  streamed  in 
through  the  open  fenestral,  fast  dispelling  the  nox 
ious  odors  which  still  lingered  in  the  dreary  little 
room,  but  a  glance  showed  the  master  of  the  house 
that  the  room  was  empty. 

"  Surely  this  becomes  mysterious,"  said  the  light 
voice  of  Valerie  behind  him.  "  If  yon  closet  has 
no  tale  to  tell,  we  may  confess  ourselves  out 
witted." 

Without  a  word,  but  with  face  livid  now  with 
poisonous  fury,  Anastro,  finding  the  inner  door  like 
wise  locked  and  the  key  gone,  again  applied  his 
tools.  The  door  soon  sprang  open  under  his  pres 
sure,  disclosing  the  cold,  flooded  brazier  and  the 
figure  of  Venero,  gagged,  bound,  and  insensible  on 
the  narrow  pallet. 

With  trembling  hands,  hard,  eager,  loveless, 
Anastro  tore  off  the  bandages  and  laid  his  ear  upon 
the  man's  heart.  Valerie  read  in  his  look  as  he 
lifted  his  head  that  there  was  yet  life  remaining. 

She  turned  back  to  Jacqueline's  room  and  brought 
therefrom  certain  flasks,  which  she  handed  to 
Anastro. 

"  He  will  live,"  she  said  carelessly,  disgust 
plainly  written  on  her  face  as  she  glanced  at  the 
ghastly  object  on  the  bed.  "  Knaves  of  his  kind 
die  hard.  Besides  that  poor,  pious  fool  who  bound 
him  destroyed  his  own  weapons — see  !  "  and  she 
pointed  to  the  black,  swimming  brazier,  shaking  her 
head  and  adding  with  low  laughter  : 

"Fools!     Fools!" 

Anastro  looked  but  did  not  speak. 

"  Beshrew  me,  Senor  Anastro,"  Valerie  con 
tinued,  "  but  I  had  hardly  thought  you  could  have 
been  so  merrily  outwitted  by  those  children  !  In 


2O7 

good  sooth  they  seem  to  have  been  shrewder  than 
you.  My  dear  little  Jacqueline  must  have  ruffled  it 
bravely  in  the  streets  of  Antwerp  in  her  nightgown  ! 
Pardon  me  if  I  do  not  offer  my  services  in  nursing 
our  excellent  Venero  back  to  life.  I  am  so  confi 
dent,  you  see,  of  his  recovery,  but  his  appearance 
at  the  moment  is  most  shocking,"  and  with  that 
Valerie  made  good  her  retreat  to  her  own  room. 

During  the  hours  which  followed,  Doctor  Hoek- 
stra,  hastily  summoned,  succeeded  in  rousing  the 
benumbed  brain  of  Venero,  and  promised  at  least 
partial  recovery  in  time.  Anastro,  keenly  mortified 
but  not  seriously  embarrassed  by  the  escape  of  his 
victims,  swiftly  ferreted  out  the  means  and  ways 
of  their  departure.  The  servants  confessed  that  on 
account  of  the  sultry  heat  of  the  night  the  door  of 
their  chamber  which  gave  entrance  upon  the  inner 
passage,  had,  against  the  master's  orders  been  left 
open.  This  door,  which  he  had  supposed  securely 
barred  on  the  inner  side,  might  have  given  exit. 
The  boy  Juan  remembered  vaguely  that  something 
had  disturbed  him  in  his  sleep,  although  what  he 
could  not  tell. 

"Ah,  well,"  reflected  the  merchant,  restored  to 
his  wonted  grave  and  philosophical  calmness  ;  "  it 
matters  but  little  at  most,  unless  the  Brussels  peo 
ple  call  my  claim  in  question.  In  that  event  I  would 
gladly  have  had  the  child  Jacqueline  ready  as  a 
witness  ;  for  if  put  to  the  torture  we  could  doubtless 
have  drawn  the  whole  story  from  her,  and  she 
would  have  been  palpably  a  witness  of  my  pro 
curing.  The  brother  was  wholly  superfluous  and 
withal  dangerous  and  would  better  have  been 
quietly  and  painlessly  slipped  out  of  the  way.  He 
may  yet  make  us  trouble,  though  I  hardly  think 
it." 

But  a  threat  of  trouble  came  a  day  or  two  later 
from  an  unexpected  quarter. 

Anastro,  sitting  in  his  shop,  was  studying  with 


208 

greedy  satisfaction  the  documents  newly  arrived 
from  Brussels,  conveying  full  transference  of  his 
share  in  the  confiscated  estates  of  Nikolaas  Tontorf. 
He  looked  up  to  note  the  entrance  of  a  man  of 
powerful,  massive  figure,  flushed  face,  and  fiery 
eyes,  who  with  threatening  air  stepped  straight  to 
him  and  in  whom  he  recognized  with  keen  alarm 
the  dreaded,  albeit  derided,  lord  of  Brederode. 

In  his  hand  the  great  seigneur  held  a  slip  of 
paper. 

"  Hear  this  !  "  he  cried  with  startling  abruptness, 
"  you  black-hearted  plotter,"  and  he  read  in  a  roar 
ing,  declamatory  tone: 

"  '  Pardon  the  unwilling  kidnapping  of  your  good 
horse.  It  comes  herewith  back  to  you — with  money 
for  its  hire.  It  was  taken  only  because  our  case 
was  for  life  or  death  and  perchance  to  save  many 
lives  better  than  ours.  Beware  of  the  merchant 
Anastro.  He  is  the  foul  fiend  incarnate.' 

"  Do  you  know,  sir,"  thundered  Brederode,  "  who 
scratched  those  lines  on  that  scrap  of  paper  ?  " 

"I  can  guess,"  said  Anastro,  grown  yellow  and 
with  wild,  wandering  glances. 

"You  can  guess,  and  so  can  I,"  and  Brederode 
coming  yet  nearer  by  a  step,  took  the  long  beard 
of  the  Spaniard  in  his  mighty  hand,  around  which  he 
sharply  twisted  it  and  continued  to  emphasize  what 
he  said  with  merciless  jerks  and  shakes  of  the  mer 
chant's  head. 

"  Look  you,  you  mammering  coward,  you  sneak 
ing  informer,  you  poisonous  reptile,  you  foul  mur 
derer  !  Antwerp  knows  to-day  of  your  damnable 
deeds  and  is  ready  to  visit  them  on  your  head. 
You,  gloating  over  the  booty  you  rob  from  the  men 
whom  your  infamous  treachery  betrays  to  their 
death  ;  you,  true  subject  of  your  king  ;  you,  fit  only 
for  the  pad-midden,  where  I  fain  would  fling  you  ! 
Hear  me — get  out  of  Antwerp  ere  the  sun  set  or  I 
will  put  a  bullet  through  that  devil's  brain  of  you, 


209 

or  soil  my  blade  with  your  heart's  blood  !  "  And 
almost  foaming  at  the  mouth,  the  great  Beggar  gave 
the  Spaniard  a  final  mighty  and  paralyzing  shake 
and  threw  him  half  across  the  shop. 

This  done,  he  strode  out  of  the  place,  with 
clenched  teeth,  clanking  sword,  and  face  flushed 
with  furious  anger. 

An  hour  later  he  left  Antwerp  for  Embden  never 
to  return.  Dying  within  the  year  the  Seigneur  de 
Brederode  had  not  the  cause  which  would  have 
come  to  him  with  the  coming  years,  bitterly  to  re 
pent  that  blade  or  bullet  had  not  in  that  hour  ex 
tinguished  the  life  of  Anastro. 

That  night  found  the  house  in  the  Rue  d'Augustin 
deserted.  Whither  its  master  and  inmates  had 
fled  few  cared  to  ask.  Some  said  that  Paris  was 
their  destination,  being  a  refuge  well  suited  to  those 
who  chose  for  a  time  to  be  forgotten. 


XX 

BURG-FRIED 

IT  was  the  close  of  an  August  day.  Over  the 
richly  wooded  Nassau  country,  far  to  the  east 
of  the  Rhine,  diversified  with  range  upon  range 
of  purple  hills,  outposts  of  the  Taunus  Mountains, 
the  sun  was  shedding  his  last  gorgeous  rays. 

Following  the  course  of  a  shallow,  sparkling  river, 
the  River  Dill,  a  high-road  threaded  a  verdant  valley 
and  furnished  an  approach  to  the  red-roofed  village 
of  Dillenburg,  clinging  around  the  base  of  a  pre 
cipitous  hill. 

Towering  far  above  this  rugged  height,  into  whose 
rocky  surface  it  seemed  to  have  been  impregnably 
rooted,  rose  the  lofty  and  lonely  feudal  castle  of 
Nassau-Dillenburg. 

The  setting  sun  illuminated  the  battlements  of 
the  vast,  imposing  pile,  softening  the  surface  of  the 
rough  and  hoary  stone  and  giving  a  strangely  solemn 
beauty  to  the  massive  facade  with  its  numberless 
towers,  gateways,  barbicans,  and  outworks. 

The  stillness  of  the  great  and  almost  unbroken 
wilderness  lay  upon  the  landscape,  upon  the  sea  of 
billowing  hills  stretching  to  the  dim  horizon,  upon 
the  rich  green  of  oaks  and  beeches  clustering  close 
about  the  quiet  village,  upon  the  valley  piercing  its 
way  westward  between  the  hills,  with  the  flashing 
river  touched  now  with  the  golden  radiance  of  sun 
set.  The  whole  scene  seemed,  however,  subordi 
nate  to  the  castle  which  in  its  stern  grandeur  ap 
peared  as  much  a  primitive  part  of  the  landscape  as 
did  the  rocky  height  on  which  it  was  built  or  the 
dim  peaks  of  the  Taunus  Mountains  on  the  horizon. 

210 


211 

A  dash  of  hoofs  on  the  rough  paving  of  the  nar 
row  village  street  brought  the  Dillenburg  children 
to  their  cottage  doors  only  to  see  a  young  man  upon 
a  dark  bay  horse,  unattended,  spurring  up  the  steep 
ascent  to  the  castle,  whose  walls  frowned  formid 
ably  hard  above  the  roofs  of  the  timbered  houses. 

This  rider,  who  now  proceeded  more  slowly  be 
tween  the  solid  walls  of  masonry  which  guarded 
the  approach  to  the  castle,  was  Norbert  Tontorf. 

Two  months  had  passed  since,  in  the  agony  of 
their  maddening  grief,  he  and  Jacqueline  had  for 
saken  by  night  the  city  of  Middelburg,  so  dear  in 
its  associations  to  them,  the  sealed  and  darkened 
home  no  longer  theirs,  and  had  wandered  on  their 
heart-broken  way  to  Breda.  With  them  had  come 
the  Pastor  Droust,  still  piteously  crazed,  but  harm 
less  and  sacred  to  Norbert  for  his  devotion  to  their 
father. 

Norbert,  at  first  fierce  with  the  thirst  to  visit  such 
punishment  as  was  meet  upon  Anastro  and  his 
despicable  tools,  found  himself  baffled  by  the  knowl 
edge  which  soon  reached  him  that  the  guilty  trio 
had  disappeared  absolutely  from  Antwerp.  A  price 
was  set  upon  his  own  head,  for  the  Spaniard  had  had 
time  to  cause  the  issue  of  a  warrant  against  the 
son  of  Nikolaas  Tontorf  by  the  authorities  of  the 
regent,  before  he  fled  the  town.  Condemned  there 
fore  to  keep  in  hiding,  reduced  to  poverty  by  the 
confiscation  of  his  father's  estates,  and  to  submis 
sion  for  a  time  at  least  to  a  life  of  utter  inaction  in 
the  friendly  shelter  of  the  home  of  the  Van  Maries, 
Norbert  sank  into  a  listless,  hopeless  apathy  from 
which  nothing  availed  to  arouse  him. 

Then,  with  the  first  days  of  August  came  the 
tidings  to  Breda  that  the  Duke  of  Alva  with  his 
army,  hasty  and  terrible,  had  accomplished  the 
march  through  Burgundy  unhindered,  and  in  twelve 
days  had  entered  Lorraine.  Another  fortnight  of 
such  marching  could  bring  them  to  the  Flemish 


212 

borders.  Like  an  alarum  this  tidings  struck  the 
Protestants  of  Holland.  Some  it  paralyzed.  Some  it 
aroused  to  flee  for  their  lives,  and  day  after  day 
a  stream  of  out-wanderers  flowed  steadily  on  by 
every  road  leading  into  Germany  or  France,  and  by 
every  ship  departing  for  England. 

The  family  of  the  Van  Maries  were  among  the 
emigrants  and  Heidelberg,  with  its  devout  and  great 
hearted  Protestant  elector,  Friedrich  der  Fromm, 
was  their  haven  of  refuge. 

A  day's  preparation  sufficed,  for  few  household 
goods  could  be  carried  with  the  exiles,  and  so  with 
aching  hearts  the  little  cavalcade  on  the  third  day 
of  August  started  up  the  Rhine  on  its  long  journey. 

At  Cologne  the  unhappy  Pastor  Droust,  who  had 
accompanied  them  so  far,  disappeared  from  their 
company  and  they  saw  him  no  more. 

Arrived  in  Heidelberg  the  refugees  found  them 
selves  in  an  atmosphere  of  calm  and  safety  which 
made  amends  for  the  sacrifice  of  the  home  they 
had  left,  shadowed  as  it  was  with  dread  and  dan 
ger. 

Through  the  kind  offices  of  friends,  Vrouw  Van 
Marie  was  appointed  to  a  post  of  usefulness  and 
honor  in  the  economy  of  the  great  castle.  The 
heartbroken  child,  Jacqueline,  whose  crushing 
sorrow  commended  her  to  the  tender  sympathy  of 
the  noble  electress  herself,  found  at  last  a  place  of 
peace  and  consolation,  and  so  it  came  about  that  on 
that  late  August  day  Norbert  Tontorf  was  set  free 
to  start  out  and  win  his  spurs  in  the  cause  of  his 
prince,  his  land,  and  his  lady. 

With  manly  courage  he  shook  off  the  languor 
which  a  grief  over-great  had  laid  upon  him,  and 
with  his  heart  strengthened  by  new  resolve  he 
fared  forth  on  his  way  to  Dillenburg.  He  was  no 
longer  the  light-hearted  ardent  youth  of  six  months 
ago,  impulsive  and  buoyant.  The  awful  baptism 
of  blood  through  which  he  had  passed  had  set  its 


213 

seal  forever  on  his  heart.  He  was  a  man  now,  of 
a  purpose  sterner  and  more  determined,  devoted 
with  a  mighty  passion  to  the  salvation  of  his  op 
pressed  people,  a  passion  in  which  love  and  hate, 
scorn  and  sorrow  were  welded  together. 

With  less  of  romantic  enthusiasm,  therefore,  than 
he  would  once  have  felt  in  like  circumstances,  but 
with  a  deeper  and  more  unconquerable  devotion, 
Norbert,  now  at  his  journey's  end,  made  his  way 
up  to  the  isolated  chateau  which  had  been  the 
birthplace  and  was  now  for  a  time  the  place  of 
refuge  of  the  Prince  of  Orange. 

The  young  Zeelander  found  the  courtyard  of  the 
castle,  which  he  entered  by  a  noble  stone  gate 
emblazoned  with  the  Nassau  arms,  filled  with  a 
merry  company  of  young  noblemen,  with  their 
grooms  and  attendants.  A  magnificent  buck  had 
just  been  brought  in  as  the  result  of  the  day's 
hunt  in  the  forest  and  the  young  counts  of  Nassau, 
Adolf  and  Henry,  were  presiding  over  the  inspec 
tion  of  its  points. 

Norbert  was  amazed  at  the  impregnable  strength 
of  the  castle,  which  was  also  a  fortress,  and  at  its 
vast  extent  as  seen  now  from  within.  Ample  for 
the  accommodation  of  a  thousand  persons  he  judged 
it,  and  no  longer  did  he  wonder  that  the  prince  with 
his  retinue  of  over  a  hundred  and  fifty  persons 
could  find  hospitable  entertainment  here. 

Before  one  of  the  castle  doors  Norbert  soon  caught 
sight  of  the  Princess  Marie  of  Orange,  standing 
whip  in  hand  in  her  graceful  hunting  habit,  a  charm 
ing  girlish  figure.  He  had  seen  her  several  times 
in  the  early  spring  riding  through  the  streets  of  her 
father's  own  city  of  Breda. 

A  bluff  gentleman,  with  the  aspect  of  a  country 
squire,  a  man  of  somewhat  immobile  face  and  a 
figure  of  massive  proportions,  now  came  from  the 
interior  of  the  castle  and  stood  looking  down  at 
Marie  with  a  fond,  fatherly  glance. 


214 

Seeing  him  the  young  girl  moved  to  his  side  with 
an  affectionate  exclamation  : 

"  Ach,  lieber  Onkel!  "  and  nestled  her  small  hand 
in  the  large  cordial  clasp  of  his. 

Norbert  as  he  watched  these  two  thus  evidently 
drawn  together  by  close  and  tender  sympathy 
despite  the  disparity  in  their  years,  concluded  that 
Marie's  lieber  Onkel  was  Count  John,  next  in  age 
to  the  Prince  of  Orange  and  the  present  lord  of 
Nassau-Dillenburg. 

Count  John  bore  the  unmistakable  Nassau  phys 
iognomy,  albeit  Norbert  found  him  almost  stolid 
and  commonplace  in  comparison  with  his  illustrious 
brothers,  William  and  Louis.  Nevertheless  he  per 
ceived,  even  in  this  casual  observation,  a  certain 
sturdy  strength  and  rugged  constancy  which  might 
be  hardly  less  important  in  a  time  of  crisis  than  the 
penetrating  intellect  and  commanding  power  of  the 
one  and  the  blithe  audacity  and  high  spirit  of  the 
other. 

The  Princess  Marie  caught  sight  ere  long  of 
Norbert  and  after  a  moment's  scrutiny  she  beck 
oned  him  to  her  side. 

"  I  have  seen  you  before.  I  have  seen  you  in 
dear  old  Breda.  What,  if  you  please,  is  your 
name  ?  " 

"Norbert  Tontorf,  your  highness." 

A  swift  change  came  over  the  face  of  Marie,  and 
she  murmured  a  few  gentle  words  of  sympathy  for 
his  loss,  of  which  the  news  had  reached  Dillenburg. 

11  Do  you  wish  to  go  at  once  to  my  father,  Mas 
ter  Tontorf  ?  "  she  asked  kindly. 

"  If  it  please  your  highness,"  said  Norbert  in  a 
low,  toneless  voice,  his  face  grown  gray  and  stern 
on  the  instant. 

Count  John  called  a  page  and  bade  him  accom 
pany  Norbert  to  the  antechamber  of  the  prince. 
He  gave  the  young  Zeelander  a  hearty  welcome  to 
Dillenburg,  and  Norbert  felt  with  quick  gratitude 


215 

the  free-hearted  hospitality  of  the  house  and  its 
head. 

Passing  through  a  lofty  and  ancient  hall,  decked 
with  the  trophies  of  the  chase,  with  stone  floor 
rush-strewn  and  roof  upheld  by  mighty  rafters, 
Norbert  was  led  on  to  a  distant  part  of  the  castle 
known  as  the  Diedrichs-bau,  which  was  set  apart 
for  the  accommodation  of  the  most  distinguished 
son  of  the  house  with  his  family  and  retinue. 

Entering  a  meagrely  furnished  apartment,  dimly 
lighted  now  by  such  evening  gleams  as  filtered 
through  the  narrow  windows,  which  were  scarce 
more  than  slits  in  the  huge  depth  of  the  wall,  the 
page,  indicating  a  closed  door  at  the  far  end  of  the 
room,  remarked  : 

"  His  excellency  is  at  present  engaged  at  the 
evening  meal  with  the  princess.  When  he  comes 
into  this  room,  and  that  will  haply  be  ere  long,  you 
can  easily  present  yourself  to  him  if  I  am  not  here." 

Smiling  a  little,  Norbert  sat  down  near  one  of 
the  windows  through  which  he  could  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  enchanting  valley  of  the  Dill.  Plainly 
etiquette  at  the  Nassau-Dillenburg  castle  was 
something  relaxed  from  the  ceremonious  character 
which  belonged  to  the  court  of  the  prince  in  his 
own  castle.  Moreover,  the  bare  though  noble 
simplicity  of  his  present  surroundings  suggested 
a  striking  contrast  to  the  luxurious  magnificence 
of  Nassau-Breda. 

Norbert's  attention,  however,  was  soon  forcibly 
attracted  from  this  casual  consideration  by  a  series 
of  shrill  and  angry  exclamations  in  the  adjoining 
room,  distinctly  audible,  although  a  heavy  oaken 
door  was  closed  between. 

The  voice  he  recognized  as  that  of  Anne  of  Sax 
ony. 

"  I  will  go  to  Cologne  !  I  am  going  !  You  can 
not  stop  me  !  I  will  die  rather  than  stay  in  this 
place!" 


2l6 

Cries  like  these,  interspersed  with  passionate  pro 
fanity  and  incoherent  raving,  jarred  upon  Norbert's 
ears  painfully  ;  with  them  were  mingled  two  other 
voices ;  that  of  the  prince  himself,  quiet  and  gentle, 
and  that  of  a  woman. 

Unwilling  to  listen  to  the  shameful  and  distress 
ing  tokens  of  what  was  plainly  a  furious, outbreak 
of  the  stormy  temper  of  the  princess,  Norbert  rose 
and  paced  the  floor,  seeking  to  withdraw  his  atten 
tion  from  the  lamentable  sounds.  Suddenly,  after 
a  loud  series  of  violent  but  unintelligible  protests, 
there  struck  upon  his  ears  the  noise  of  shivering 
glass  and  the  crash  of  metal  thrown  upon  the  stone 
floor.  In  another  moment  the  door  upon  which  his 
eyes  were  involuntarily  fixed,  opened  into  a  brightly 
lighted  dining  hall,  and  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
prince  himself  as  he  bowed  from  the  room  a  grave 
and  stately  dame  who,  as  the  door  closed  after  her, 
passed  rapidly  down  the  antechamber  and  departed, 
not  having  observed  Norbert's  presence  in  her  evi 
dent  agitation. 

The  young  man,  however,  had  taken  note  of  the 
dignity  of  her  person,  the  grace  of  her  bearing,  her 
plain  black  velvet  gown,  the  keys  hanging  from  her 
girdle  by  their  silver  chains,  the  wide,  transparent 
ruff  and  simple  widow's  cap  of  sheer  white  muslin. 
He  believed  that  he  had  seen  the  noble  dowager, 
Juliana  of  Stolberg,  mother  of  the  Nassaus,  and 
chatelaine  of  the  castle. 

A  long  half-hour  ensued,  in  which  Norbert,  despite 
his  own  will,  could  not  but  hear  a  prolonged  sound 
of  low  sobbing  and  the  steady,  soothing  tones  of 
the  prince  himself.  Doors  opened  and  closed  ;  steps 
could  be  heard  going  to  and  fro  in  the  room  ;  these 
sounds  ceased  also,  and  then  at  last  the  prince  him 
self  entered  the  antechamber. 

His  countenance  was  careworn,  his  dress  dark 
and  plain,  his  step  hurried.  Around  his  left  wrist 
he  had  carelessly  wound  a  white  linen  napkin,  ap- 


217 

parently  snatched  in  haste  from  the  table.  A  dark 
stain  of  spilled  wine  discolored  a  corner  which  hung 
from  the  wrist,  but  as  Norbert  stepped  hastily  for 
ward  his  eye  caught,  on  the  wrapping  of  the  wrist 
itself,  a  more  vivid  and  a  slowly  increasing  stain. 

On  seeing  Norbert,  the  prince,  with  his  rare  self- 
mastery,  instantly  banished  every  token  of  his  own 
anxiety  and  preoccupation,  and  received  the  young 
Zeelander  with  gentle  cordiality  and  sympathy. 

The  first  interchange  over,  he  insisted  on  leading 
Norbert  into  his  own  dining  hall,  and  calling  for 
fresh  food  and  wine,  entertained  him  with  substan 
tial  hospitality. 

All  tokens  of  the  accident  had  been  removed,  the 
crash  of  which  Norbert  had  so  plainly  heard,  and 
the  painful  consequence  of  which  he  could  not  fail 
to  see.  The  room  was  worthily  although  not  luxu 
riously  furnished,  and  the  meal  of  which  Norbert 
now  partook  was  served  on  the  prince's  own  gold 
and  silver  plate,  brought  from  Breda,  with  the  mag 
nificence  of  which  Norbert  was  mightily  impressed. 

As  Norbert  ate  with  sound  and  hearty  hunger, 
the  prince  asked  questions  which  he  answered,  as 
far  as  he  was  able. 

Yes,  he  had  seen  the  Elector  Friedrich  at  Heidel 
berg,  and  had  brought  affectionate  greetings  from 
him  to  the  Nassau  household,  and  above  all,  to  his 
excellency. 

Heidelberg  court  was  full  of  the  new  excitement 
among  the  Huguenots  of  France,  which  had  followed 
the  march  of  Alva  through  the  borders,  the  raising  of 
royalist  troops,  and  the  secret  which  had  leaked  out 
that  the  king  and  queen  mother  were  engaged  in  a 
treacherous  correspondence  with  Alva  which  could 
only  threaten  the  betrayal  of  the  peace  of  Amboise, 
so  sorely  strained  already. 

The  famous  saying  of  the  queen-mother,  already 
bruited  abroad,  that  it  was  the  privilege. of  French 
monarchs  never  to  make  a  perpetual  edict,  had 


218 

sounded  the  note  of  warning  and  stirred  the  Hugue 
nots  to  secret  preparations  for  a  second  civil  war. 

"Yes,"  said  the  prince,  as  Norbert  rehearsed 
these  important  matters,  "  the  war  is  inevitable 
and  cannot  long  be  averted.  No  doubt  Coligny  is 
in  communication  with"  the  elector.  Saw  you 
tokens  in  Heidelberg  or  elsewhere  in  the  Pfalz,  of 
a  muster  of  troops  ?  " 

"  Assuredly,  my  lord.  Heidelberg  was  full  of 
soldiers,  both  foot  and  horse,  and  his  highness  the 
elector's  son,  John  Casimir,  is  continually  enroll 
ing  fresh  ones.  All  are  fierce  to  be  off  for  France 
and  effect  a  junction  somewhere  in  Lorraine  with 
Coligny.  Nevertheless,  I  misdoubt  their  moving 
very  soon." 

"Why  so?  " 

"  The  court  seems  to  be  full  of  an  influence 
against  the  Huguenots  and  their  cause." 

A  hasty  exclamation  escaped  the  prince. 

"  Bochetel  has  been  at  work,  then,  at  Heidelberg 
also,  he  or  Lansac,"  he  said,  "and  has  found  the 
ear  of  the  elector.  I  suppose  it  is  the  same  story 
he  has  used  to  bring  the  landgrave  and  the  other 
princes  over  to  the  royaiist  side." 

The  prince  paused,  biting  his  lip  and  looking 
before  him  in  fixed  thought. 

"  I  know  not,  your  highness,"  said  Norbert. 
"  The  elector  said  I  might  tell  you  that  there  were 
some  reasons  to  fear  that  if  a  second  civil  war  were 
begun  in  France  it  would  not  be  for  the  cause  of 
religion  but  as  a  political  and  treasonable  revolu 
tion,  to  gain  the  throne  for  the  Prince  of  Conde. 
'  I  have  no  desire,'  his  highness  said  further,  'to 
aid  in  an  unholy  war  of  treasonable  ambition,  and 
I  may  yet  advise  my  son  to  disband  his  troops  and 
make  no  further  levy.' ' 

The  prince  rose  and  paced  the  room  in  close 
thought  for  some  minutes.  At  length  he  stood  still 
before  Norbert  and  said  with  grave  emphasis  : 


219 

"  Tontorf,  you  may  not  see  yet  what  you  will 
see  as  you  live  deeper  into  this  time  of  ours,  that 
the  cause  of  the  Huguenots  in  France  is  the  cause 
of  the  Gueux  in  the  Low  Countries,  the  cause  of 
Protestants  everywhere.  If  one  suffer,  all  suffer. 
There  will  be  a  long  struggle,  fought  out  now  on 
one  field  and  now  on  the  other,  but  the  cause  is 
one.  A  wider  question  is  at  stake  and  a  deeper 
than  many  see — not  a  question  merely  between 
the  Mass  and  the  Bible,  but  a  question  of  the  free 
dom  of  the  human  spirit  for  all  time  to  come. 

"  In  these  quiet  months  here  in  my  old  home  I 
have  had  the  leisure  which  aforetime  failed  me  to 
study  and  reflect.  Two  tremendous  forces  have 
come  into  mortal  clash  in  our  time — the  newly 
awakened  spirit  of  liberty  and  the  mighty  and 
ancient  spirit  of  tyranny.  The  latter  undeniably 
has  its  seat  and  stronghold  in  the  Roman  system, 
with  its  kingcraft  and  priestcraft  and  its  established 
control  over  the  motions  of  men's  souls.  To  it  I 
can  no  longer  adhere.  My  place  is  in  the  other 
camp.  I  am  ready  now  to  take  my  part  openly  in 
the  struggle,  whether  its  stage  be  France  or  Flan 
ders  or  elsewhere,  albeit  the  cause  of  the  Nether 
lands  must  always  lie  closest  to  my  heart. 

"Matters  grow  urgent,"  continued  the  prince. 
"  Alva  has  already  reached  Brussels  and  letters  from 
Rome  and  from  Spain  which  have  been  intercepted 
show  that  the  great  powers  are  all  girding  them 
selves  for  a  swift,  concerted  movement  to  stamp 
out  freedom  and  toleration. 

"  These  poisonous  slanders  against  Conde  and 
Coligny  are  but  the  subtle  weapons  with  which 
Catharine  de  Medici  seeks  to  rob  the  Huguenot 
party  of  the  help  of  their  brethren  in  Germany.  A 
messenger  must  come  from  Coligny  and  Conde 
themselves  to  the  elector  inviting  him  to  search  out 
the  truth  of  these  charges.  I  would  fain  communi 
cate  with  Coligny  as  soon  as  may  be,  for  time 


22O 

presses.  Would  you  be  ready  to  make  the  journey 
into  France  for  me  at  short  notice  ?  " 

"  Ready,  my  lord,  with  all  my  heart,"  said  Nor- 
bert  promptly. 

"  Very  good.  We  must  wait  a  little  for  my 
brother,  Count  Louis,  for  this  is  work  for  him  also. 
He  should  be  here  ere  long.  He  is  hard  at  work 
now  in  Friesland  seeking  to  rouse  the  people  to 
arms,  but  they  are  slow  to  move.  And  now  you 
must  have  chance  to  rest.  How  far  have  you 
ridden  to-day  ?  " 

"  From  Giessen,  your  highness." 

"  You  have  a  right,  then,  to  be  weary  and  you 
will  find  Dillenburg  as  good  a  place  for  rest  as  all 
Germany  could  give  you.  Have  you  observed  the 
stillness  ?  " 

With  these  words  the  prince  led  Norbert  out  from 
the  antechamber  to  a  long  balcony  overlooking  the 
approach  to  the  castle.  The  forest  lay  black  and 
murmurous  in  the  hush  of  the  night,  with  the  great 
dome  of  the  sky  studded  with  the  splendid  August 
stars  bending  over.  The  air  was  fresh  and  laden 
with  the  aromatic  breath  of  the  firs  and  balsams. 
Nowhere  was  sound  or  motion  to  break  the  profound 
silence.  Then  the  plaintive  call  of  the  night  raven 
issued  from  the  forest,  and  a  warm  wind  swayed 
the  lofty  treetops  below  the  castle  wall. 

"  What  peace  !  "  said  Norbert  under  his  breath 
involuntarily. 

"  Peace  here,  Tontorf,"  said  the  prince  quietly; 
"  peace  to-day,  but  to-morrow,  I  tell  you,  not 
peace  but  a  sword." 


XXI 

NEWS  FROM  BRABANT 

TWO  weeks  had  passed. 
It  was  a  late  hour  of  the  September  night. 
Norbert  Tontorf,  leaning  over  the  parapet  of 
the  terrace  before  the  Diedrichs-bau,  looked  down 
upon  the  sleeping  village  of  Dillenburg  below  the 
castle. 

The  peace  of  this  valley,  above  all  at  night,  pos 
sessed  an  exhaustless  power  to  soothe  and  heal  his 
aching  heart.  Behind  him,  within  the  castle,  late 
as  was  the  hour,  lights  were  moving  to  and  fro,  but 
for  the  time  they  were  unheeded  by  Norbert. 

For,  as  he  stood  and  drank  in  the  purity  and 
peace  of  the  silent  hills,  stretching  dark  to  the 
horizon,  there  had  risen  afresh  before  his  mind  the 
thought  of  that  lovely  princess  whose  device  he 
still  wore  and  whose  unseen  presence  had  ruled  his 
fancy  and  held  his  devotion  by  mysterious  chains 
through  these  silent  years.  Far,  far  beyond  this 
valley,  he  mused,  lay  the  convent  where  she  lived 
her  life  in  still  seclusion,  beyond  the  Rhine,  beyond 
the  border,  in  the  unknown  west.  What  might  have 
befallen  her  in  the  years  since  his  father  had  vis 
ited  Jouarre  ?  The  times  were  full  of  fresh  peril, 
her  enemies  were  powerful,  her  friends  scattered. 
Who  could  tell  if  she  had  even  now  the  protection 
which  he  himself  so  ardently  longed  to  give  her  ? 
Who  could  tell  if  she  yet  lived  ?  Should  it  yet  be 
given  him  to  put  his  sword  and  service  at  her  feet  ? 

His  reverie  was  interrupted. 

Steps  approached,  coming  from  the  castle.  Nor 
bert  turned  to  see  a  man  in  a  long,  black  cassock, 

221 


222 

with  white  lawn  bands,  crossing  the  terrace  to  his 
side,  a  man  of  serious  and  reverend  mien.  It  was 
Herr  Nicholas  Zell,  a  Lutheran  clergyman,  who  had 
been  for  some  weeks  in  attendance  on  the  prince. 

"This  air  is  most  refreshing,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  can  breathe  freely  now.  All  our  fears  are  over. 
A  son  is  born  to  his  highness  !  " 

Norbert  made  an  exclamation  of  pleasure  and 
Zell  continued  in  a  low  voice  of  quiet  satisfaction  : 

"  Yes,  a  lusty  young  prince,  to  be  named  pres 
ently  after  the  deceased  father  of  the  princess,  the 
Saxon  elector,  Maurice." 

"  This  is  good  news,"  returned  Norbert  warmly. 
"  And  is  the  mother  at  rest  ?  " 

"A  pointed  question,  young  sir,"  said  Zell 
smiling  thoughtfully  ;  "  yes,  for  once  the  wild  and 
foaming  torrent  is  stilled.  The  great  tide  of  mother 
hood  and  the  exhaustion  of  her  travail  have  sufficed 
at  this  hour  to  silence  the  tumult  of  the  princess' 
strange  spirit." 

"You  have  seen  her  ?  " 

"  I  have  just  come  from  her  bedside.  The 
Countess  Dowager  and  the  Lady  Elizabeth  have 
cared  for  her  with  tenderest  devotion,  despite  the 
harsh  and  contemptuous  treatment  she  has  ever 
accorded  them.  No  queen  could  have  had  gentler 
nursing.  It  might  seem  that  even  '  the  great  elec 
tor's  daughter,'  as  she  is  wont  to  call  herself,  might 
be  satisfied,  and  cease  for  a  time  at  least  her  clamor 
to  return  to  Breda." 

"When  she  was  in  Breda,"  said  Norbert,  "it 
was  well  known  that  the  princess  never  ceased  to 
rail  against  the  land  and  the  people,  but  now  it 
seems  she  is  fain  to  return  to  them." 

"The  life  here  at  Dillenburg  is  too  dull  and  too 
simple  for  her  highness,"  said  Zell.  "If  Breda 
is  impossible  she  has  wearied  the  prince  night  and 
day  to  permit  her  to  go  to  -Cologne  and  set  up  her 
own  household.  She  fancies  herself  holding  a 


223 

little  court  there  and  playing  the  queen  among  the 
many  Netherlandish  refugees — ruling  without  a 
rival." 

Both  Zell  and  Norbert  smiled  involuntarily  at 
this  characteristic  wish  of  the  fantastic  Anne  of 
Saxony. 

"  How  the  prince  bears  with  her  stubbornness 
and  her  violence  is  beyond  my  wit  to  discern  !  " 
exclaimed  Norbert,  after  a  pause. 

"  His  patience  is  most  marvelous.  I  doubt  me 
sometimes  that  he  is  too  patient,  for  more  than  once 
his  very  life  or  that  of  others  has  been  in  jeopardy. 
Harsher  measures  might  perchance  the  sooner  bring 
the  lady  to  her  senses.  His  highness  can  be  stern, 
however,  when  pressed  too  hard.  I  have  seen  the 
princess  in  a  towering  passion,  ready  to  dash  to 
pieces  everything  she  could  lay  hands  on,  when  she 
has  quailed  before  his  mere  look  and  become  meek 
and  penitent  as  a  chidden  child." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  cried  Norbert  suddenly,  lean- 
Ing  over  the  parapet  to  listen.  A  sound  of  horses' 
hoofs  became  more  and  more  distinctly  heard 
through  the  silence  of  the  night  on  the  village 
street  below  them. 

"  It  must  be  Count  Louis  !  "  cried  Norbert  with 
rising  excitement,  as  a  small  body  of  horsemen 
came  into  view  in  the  moonlight,  threading  their 
way  up  the  steep,  rocky  approach. 

"  He  has  come  at  last,  and  he  will  bring  news 
from  the  Netherlands  !  " 

As  Norbert  said  these  words  he  added  to  himself 
silently  : 

"  And  now  at  last  we  can  start  on  the  mission  to 
France  and  to  Coligny,  and  that  means  Chatillon, 
and  on  the  road  to  Chatillon  who  knows  but  we 
may  pass  the  Abbey  of  Jouarre  ?  " 

In  another  moment  Norbert  and  the  clergyman 
had  joined  a  small  but  eager  crowd  in  the  main  hall 
of  the  castle  gathered  around  Count  Louis,  whose 


224 

appearance  was  hailed  with  rapturous  delight  by 
the  Dillenburg  household. 

Chief  among  the  group  stood  the  prince,  his  arm 
around  his  mother,  whose  sweet  old  face  showed  in 
its  tremulous  smile  the  strain  which  the  night  had 
brought  her. 

Having  received  the  affectionate  congratulations 
of  Louis  on  the  birth  of  his  son,  the  prince  cried  : 

"  And  now,  my  brother,  you  came  straight  from 
Brabant,  I  take  it.  Tell  us,  then,  in  a  word,  what 
is  passing  there.  I  will  content  myself  to  wait  till 
morning  for  private  conference." 

Louis  instantly  lost  the  bright  enthusiasm  with 
which  he  had  discussed  the  advent  of  the  prince's 
son,  and  his  face  grew  stern. 

"  The  first  news  and  the  worst  news,"  he  said, 
"  is  the  arrest  of  Egmont  and  Horn  by  Alva.  Most 
foully  and  treacherously  were  they  trapped  by  the 
duke  into  a  conference  over  plans  for  a  new  citadel 
at  Antwerp,  and  while  thus  engaged,  in  his  own 
house,  Alva  surrounded  them  with  soldiers  and  put 
them  under  guard." 

"  When  was  this  ?  "  asked  the  prince,  who  had 
changed  color  at  this  swift  fulfillment  of  his  worst 
fears. 

"  Five  days  since.  All  Flanders  rings  with  the 
horrible  scandal  of  so  treacherous  an  outrage  on  two 
Knights  of  the  Fleece.  The  people  everywhere, 
gentle  and  simple,  are  in  a  kind  of  frenzy  of  indig 
nation." 

"  Oh,  Egmont,  Egmont !  "  murmured  the  prince, 
under  his  breath.  "  If  you  would  but  have  been 
warned  by  me  !  From  a  prison  of  Alva's  making 
the  only  door  will  be  the  scaffold." 

"  Ah,  my  lord,"  cried  Louis,  with  passionate  fire, 
"we  can  but  down  on  our  knees  and  thank  God, 
fasting,  that  your  hasty  departure  prevented  Alva's 
devilish  plot  in  your  own  case.  It  is  freely  said 
among  the  Spanish  gentlemen  who  surround  the 


duke,  '  After  all,  Alva  has  caught  nothing.  The 
Silent  One  is  not  in  the  net.'  " 

The  prince  made  no  reply.  A  letter  from  his  secret 
agent  in  Madrid,  Vandenesse,  the  private  secretary 
of  Philip,  had  long  ere  this  brought  him  a  copy  of 
Alva's  secret  instructions,  one  clause  of  which  bade 
the  new  governor-general  "First  and  foremost,  to 
sei^e  the  prince  and  bring  him  to  execution  within 
twenty -four  hours . ' ' 

"  You  can  have  no  other  tidings  as  dark  as  this, 
my  brother  ?  "  the  prince  asked,  the  shadow  of  deep, 
suppressed  emotion  on  his  face. 

"  I  know  not  if  the  second  theme  which  divides 
men's  minds  in  Flanders  with  this  treachery  may 
not  bid  fair  full  soon  to  be  a  thousand-fold  more 
disastrous.  Alva  has  now  at  the  very  outset  of  his 
rule  established  a  new  tribunal  for  the  Netherlands, 
which  takes  the  place  of  every  other  court  of  justice 
in  the  land.  He  calls  it  the  Council  of  Troubles. 
The  people  call  it  the  Council  of  Blood.  The  duke 
is  himself  the  head  of  it,  and  its  powers  are  abso 
lute.  Its  penalties  are,  briefly,  death  and  confisca 
tion  of  property." 

"  The  latter  will  supply  Alva  with  his  sinews  of 
war,"  commented  the  prince,  "the  former  will  be 
a  truly  Spanish  method  of  quelling  revolt.  A  river 
of  blood  flowing  through  the  Netherlands,  a  river 
of  gold  flowing  into  Spain  !  Alas  for  my  poor  land  !  " 

"  There  is  no  doubt,  my  lord,  that  your  own  es 
tates  will  soon  be  swallowed  up  by  the  governor. 
The  castle  at  Breda  is  already  filled  with  Spanish 
troops,  and  they  swarm  everywhere  in  the  town." 

The  prince  fixed  a  startled  look  upon  the  count. 

"  They  are  making  short  work,  surely,"  he  said, 
"  but  better  landless  than  headless  !  Come,  the 
mother  looks  sadly  weary.  We  have  heard  of  many 
troubles,  but  we  must  not  forget  that  to-night  a  son 
is  born  to  this  house.  God  grant  that  Maurice  of 
Nassau  may  live  to  do  it  honor !  " 


226 

"  Hoch  soil  er  leben !  Er  lebe  hoch !  "  cried  all  the 
company  in  deep  and  full  accord. 

Then  in  turn  the  prince  and  his  brothers,  John, 
Louis,  Adolf,  and  Henry,  with  chivalrous  and  rev 
erent  devotion,  kissed  the  cheek  of  their  stately 
mother,  who  looked  with  proud  eyes  at  her  five 
gallant  sons,  and  so  closed  the  midnight  family  con 
clave. 

But  for  the  prince  there  was  no  sleep  that  night. 
Egmont,  the  gallant  hero,  whom  he  had  loved  with 
all  the  generous  ardor  of  his  young  years,  had  been 
trapped  to  ignominious  and  fatal  imprisonment  by 
the  abhorrent  craft  of  the  Spaniard  !  With  the 
hard-wrung  tears  of  his  stern  and  outraged  man 
hood,  the  prince  consecrated  himself  anew  in  that 
vigil  to  the  deliverance  of  his  land  from  a  tyranny 
which  seemed  inspired  by  devils  rather  than  men. 


XXII 

THREE  FLEURS-DE-LIS  ROYAL 

E  mind  of  Louis  of  Nassau  was  as  strong  and 
supple  as  his  body  and  both  might  be  likened 
to  tempered  steel. 

From  stirring  up  the  fisherfolk  of  North  Friesland 
with  bold  and  hardy  comradery,  from  fighting  all 
day  and  sleeping  in  his  saddle,  he  would  turn  to 
the  most  brilliant  court  festivities  or  to  the  most 
delicate  negotiation  of  statecraft  with  a  Catharine 
de  Medici,  and  prove  himself  in  each  line  master. 

Buoyant  and  ever  ready  for  action,  he  waited  but 
a  day  at  the  castle  before  he  announced  himself 
ready  to  set  out  with  Norbert  on  the  long  journey 
to  the  Huguenot  leaders  in  France. 

In  the  early  September  morning,  therefore,  while 
the  dew  was  yet  on  the  grass  and  the  mists  hung 
white  on  the  hills  around  the  castle,  the  two  young 
men,  Norbert  now  dignified  by  a  captain's  commis 
sion  at  the  hands  of  the  prince,  both  well-mounted 
and  full  of  the  eagerness  of  fresh  adventure,  gal 
loped  down  the  Dill  Valley.  They  were  riding  forth 
on  the  prince's  errand,  bound  for  France  and  for 
Chatillon-sur-Loing,  the  home  of  Coligny,  eighty 
miles  due  south  of  Paris. 

Threading  in  succession  the  valleys  of  the  Dill 
and  Lahn,  crossing  the  Rhine  at  Oberlahnstein, 
following  the  Moselle  to  the  imperial  city  of  Treves 
and  crossing  the  border  at  Sedan,  it  was  the  even 
ing  of  the  twenty-sixth  of  September  when,  at  night 
fall,  the  two  young  men  came  within  sound  of  the 
Cathedral  bells  of  Rheims. 

"  Now,  at  last,"  said  Count  Louis  as  they  rode 

227 


228 

into  the  courtyard  of  the  Bonsecours,  "  we  shall  find 
a  friend  with  whom  we  can  speak  freely  and  throw 
aside  our  disguise." 

"  And  who  is  our  friend,  my  lord  ?  "  asked  Nor- 
bert ;  "  for  truly  this  city,  with  its  ancient  cathedral, 
with  yonder  magnifical  palace  of  the  great  Guise 
archbishop,  and  all  its  proud  show  of  the  ancient 
religion  at  every  turn,  seems  the  least  promising 
town  for  us  which  we  have  entered." 

"You  say  truly,"  replied  Louis;  "we  are  in 
the  very  stronghold  of  the  Lorraines  and  may  be 
under  the  watchful  eyes  of  the  great  cardinal's 
servants  when  we  least  expect  it.  Neverthless, 
Huguenoterie  has  a  foothold  even  in  Rheims,  as  I 
shall  presently  show  you." 

Having  put  up  their  horses  at  the  Bonsecours  and 
partaken  of  the  evening  meal  for  which  they  were 
well  inclined,  the  count  and  Norbert  left  the  inn, 
and  crossing  the  great  place  before  the  archbishop's 
palace,  they  made  their  way  through  narrow  streets, 
with  which  Louis  seemed  to  be  perfectly  familiar, 
to  the  Rue  de  Tambour  and  knocked  at  the  door  of 
a  high,  timbered  house  of  quaint,  attractive  aspect. 

To  the  servant  who  responded  to  their  knocking 
Louis  put  the  question  whether  he  could  see  Maitre 
Chaudon,  and  added  in  a  low  voice  a  few  words 
which  Norbert  did  not  understand.  They  were  at 
once  ushered  into  a  spacious  room  where  beside  a 
table  covered  with  books  sat  a  venerable  man  with 
white  hair  falling  almost  to  his  shoulders. 

He  rose  and  greeted  Count  Louis  with  marked 
cordiality  and  respect,  and  seemed  fully  cognizant 
of  Norbert's  parentage. 

"  The  name  Tontorf,"  he  said  quietly,  "  must  be 
sacred  among  Protestants  of  every  nation." 

Maitre  Chaudon,  Norbert  soon  learned,  was  the 
pastor  of  the  secret  congregation  of  the  Huguenots 
of  Rheims.  A  somewhat  stern  and  taciturn  man 
Norbert  found  him,  but  one  to  be  fully  trusted. 


22Q 

A  long  conference  followed,  in  which  Count  Louis 
discussed  with  the  old  minister  the  uprising  of  the 
Huguenot  party. 

"It  is  coming,"  said  Maitre  Chaudon  ;  "it  is 
even  now  hard  upon  us.  I  can  feel  the  ground 
tremble  beneath  my  feet  with  the  tramp  of  armed 
men,  and  yet  on  the  surface  all  is  quiet.  The 
Admiral  Coligny  is  quietly  gathering  his  vintage  at 
his  home  in  Chatillon.  Conde  has,  indeed,  left  the 
court  in  anger  and  disgust  at  the  insolence  of  Anjou 
and  the  barefaced  breaking  of  her  pledged  promise 
to  him  by  the  queen-mother.  Where  he  is,  how 
ever,  is  not  known,  nor  will  be,  methinks,  until  he 
is  ready  to  strike." 

"  Where  is  the  court  ?  "  asked  Louis. 

"  At  the  castle  of  Monceaux,  in  La  Brie." 

Norbert's  interest  quickened  at  the  name.  Was 
not  the  Abbey  of  Jouarre  in  La  Brie  ? 

"  Know  you  what  place  has  been  chosen  for  a 
rendezvous  ?  " 

Maitre  Chaudon  looked  keenly  into  the  face  of 
Count  Louis,  who  smiled  slightly  at  the  old  man's 
caution. 

"You  are  safe,"  he  said  gently,  and  glanced 
significantly  at  Norbert. 

"  The  brother  of  the  Silent  Prince  and  the  son  of 
the  Printer  of  Middelburg  can  surely  be  trusted," 
responded  the  pastor  as  if  satisfied.  "  Rozoy-en-Brie 
will  be  the  place,  and  the  time  is  now  not  distant." 

Louis  was  thinking.  To  Norbert  it  often  seemed 
that  he  could  watch  the  very  movements  of  his 
swift  and  eager  mind  in  the  mobile,  changing  face. 
With  a  flash  of  sudden  perception  he  exclaimed  : 

"  Conde  is  somewhere  in  La  Brie  !  He  could  not 
be  elsewhere  ;  and  Coligny  will  not  much  longer  lin 
ger  among  his  vines.  We  must  reach  them  ere  they 
are  swept  beyond  our  reach  in  this  rising  storm. 
Come,  Tontorf,  let  us  hasten  back  to  the  Bonse- 
cours,  sleep  what  we  must  and  be  ready  to  hasten 


230 

on  at  daybreak.  If  it  is  possible  we  must  reach 
Meaux  to-morrow  night." 

"An  extravagant  hope,  fair  sir,"  remarked  the 
Huguenot.  "  If  you  come  by  Chateau-Thierry  you 
will  do  well." 

"  Haply  I  am  over  sanguine,  monsieur,"  said  the 
count,  "  but  our  business  has  haste.  And  so,  good 
night." 

"Stay  yet  a  moment,  Sir  Count,"  said  Maitre 
Chaudon  ;  "  it  may  be  that  I  am  over  cautious,  and 
that  it  would  better  serve  our  cause  that  so  tried  a 


aur  SEINE 


champion  of  it  as  Louis  of  Nassau  should  be  en 
trusted  with  our  whole  counsel. 

"  There  is  a  plot  on  foot,"  he  continued,  lowering 
his  voice  to  a  whisper,  "of  doubtful  good,  to  my 
thinking.  It  seems  justified,  however,  by  the  con 
tinued  massing  of  the  Swiss  regiments,  which  can 
only  mean  that  the  royal  party,  led  by  the  Guises, 
is  preparing  for  a  sudden  coup  against  our  people. 

"  The  prime  object  of  the  undertaking,  which  is 
wild  and  hazardous,  indeed,  is  to  rid  Charles  of  the 
baneful  influence  of  our  neighbor  here  in  Rheims, 
the  archbishop,  the  great  Guise  cardinal.  The 


231 

means  to  be  employed  are  to  seize  the  persons  of 
the  cardinal,  the  king,  and  the  queen-mother,  and 
then  to  present  a  petition,  humble  and  respectful, 
but  imperative,  to  the  king  for  the  removal  of  the 
cardinal  and  the  dispersion  of  the  Swiss  mercena 
ries." 

"If  the  plot  succeeds,"  said  Louis,  who  had 
listened  with  eager  attention  to  this  surprising  nar 
rative,  "it  will  be  a  coup  d'etat.  If  it  fails,  it  will 
be  high  treason.  Conde  is  playing  for  high  stakes. 
I  see  him  in  this  rather  than  the  admiral.  Is  Mon- 
ceaux  to  be  the  scene  of  the  attempt  ?  " 

"Meaux,  more  likely,  as  the  court  will  hardly 
fail  to  leave  their  hunting  and  dancing  for  a  day  or 
so  to  celebrate  the  feast  of  St.  Michael,  at  the  ca 
thedral  ;  but  this  will  be  determined  by  events  as 
they  befall." 

"The  feast  of  St.  Michael!"  cried  Norbert, 
"that  is  but  three  days  hence." 

"  The  twenty-ninth,"  said  Chaudon,  quickly. 

"  Then  is  our  need  of  haste  even  greater  than  I 
supposed,"  said  Louis.  "  Let  us,  if  we  may,  seek 
our  interview  with  Conde  and  Coligny  ere  they  are 
too  deeply  involved  in  the  consequences  of  this 
most  amazing  attempt." 

Again  they  bade  the  Huguenot  good-night  and 
returned  to  the  Bomecours. 

As  they  galloped  at  daybreak  the  following  morn 
ing,  down  the  green  Marne  Valley  in  the  direction 
of  Crezanc.y,  between  the  rich  vineyards,  hanging 
full  of  grapes,  still  coated  with  their  azure  bloom 
and  of  a  delicious  fragrance,  the  count  said  laugh 
ingly  to  Norbert : 

"Have  an  eye  to  the  vintage,  Roubichon  !  Do 
not  forget  the  object  of  your  expedition  to  Cham 
pagne  and  the  great  interests  of  the  brothers  Cer 
tain.  What  think  you,  will  the  yield  be  large  ?  " 
and  Louis  looked  with  a  well-feigned  connoisseur's 
eye  over  the  vineclad  hills. 


232 

/ 

Their  expedition  was  ostensibly  made  on  busi 
ness  for  the  fictitious  firm  of  George  and  Lambert 
Certain,  the  prince  being  the  chief  and  Count  Louis 
the  junior  partner.  Norbert,  the  confidential  agent, 
was  to  bear  the  name  of  Roubichon. 

"  You  ride,  Master  Lambert  Certain,  all  too  much 
like  a  lord,  and  too  little  like  a  wine  merchant," 
quoth  Norbert.  "  The  tradesfolk's  air  sits  not  ob 
viously  upon  you." 

"Neither  does  it  upon  you,  sir,"  retorted  the 
count  blithely;  "can  you  not  abate  by  a  shade 
that  soldierly  bearing,  that  gallant  and  knightly  air  ? 
And  have  a  care,  good  Roubichon,  of  that  silken 
scarf  which  I  note  you  wear  within  your  doublet ! 
Pray  tell  me,  an'  you  will,  what  is  its  device  which 
mine  eye  can  never  quite  decipher  ?  " 

Norbert  blushed  and  hesitated  for  a  moment. 

"  Fear  not  to  own  that  you  have  espoused  the 
cause  and  wear  the  colors  of  some  fair  lady,  my 
friend,"  said  Louis,  in  his  frank  fashion;  "and 
yet  speak  not  unless  you  are  fain  rather  of  speech 
than  silence.  I  am  not  over  curious  in  other  men's 
matters,  and  yet,  soothfast,  I  do  love  a  lover." 

"  Nay,  my  lord,  no  lover  am  I,"  said  Norbert,  by 
no  means  sorry  to  speak  of  a  subject  so  near  his 
heart;  "no  lover,  but  a  servant  pledged,  all  un 
known  and  silently,  to  a  lady  whom  I  have  never 
seen." 

"Nay  now,  man,"  cried  Louis,  "this  grows  in 
teresting.  Is  there  more  that  may  be  told  ?  Is  this 
lady  of  the  Religion  ?  " 

"  I  know  not,  but  deem  it  scarce  possible,"  re 
plied  Norbert,  and  after  a  pause  he  continued : 

"All  that  I  know  of  her  to  whose  service  I  would 
gladly  devote  myself,  so  far  as  I  may  while  serving 
my  lord,  was  learned  full  two  years  since.  To 
day  I  know  not  in  truth  even  that  she  lives." 

"  But  if  she  lives  she  is  fair,  safe  to  say  ;  some 
modest  maid  of  Middelburg,  mayhap,  or  Breda  ?  " 


233 

"  Nay,  my  lord.  Not  of  Middelburg,  nor  of  Breda, 
not  of  Holland  nor  of  all  Flanders,  nor  yet  of  Ger 
many.  Neither  is  the  lady,  as  you  might  think, 
the  modest  maid  whom  any  man,  least  of  all,  a  man 
like  me,  penniless  and  homeless,  might  hope  to  wed. 
This  is  no  love  affair,"  and  again  Norbert's  cheeks 
grew  ruddy ;  "  the  lady  is  of  princely  rank,  as  well 
as  of  rare  loveliness.  Furthermore,  she  is  under 
the  vows  of  the  Benedictine  order.  There  is  one 
sole  thing  that  could  call  an  unknown  burgher's 
son  and  soldier  of  fortune  like  me  to  her  side." 

"And  that  is  ?     Say  on.     I  am  eager  to  hear." 

"  And  that  is,  that  the  lady  has  been,  and  may  be 
now,  in  a  place  of  danger,  may  be  defenseless,  may 
need  a  common  fellow  who  loves  not  his  life  over 
much  to  stand  for  her  guardiance  or  to  strike  a 
blow  for  her  defense." 

Louis  of  Nassau  looked  into  Norbert's  melan 
choly  and  yet  ardent  face  with  earnest  response. 

"  The  lady  is  of  princely  rank,"  he  said  musingly, 
as  they  walked  their  horses  up  a  long  hill  where 
the  sun  beat  down  fiercely  upon  their  heads  ;  "  she 
is,  as  it  may  chance,  in  a  place  of  peril  ;  she  is  a 
Benedictine  nun  of  great  beauty  and  loveliness, 
dwelling  not  in  the  Netherlands  nor  in  Germany. 
Well  then,  Norbert  Tontorf,  I  am  ready  to  hazard 
a  guess  that  this  same  peerless  devote  lives  in 
France  !  " 

Norbert  nodded  without  speaking,  and  Louis 
glanced  shrewdly  into  his  face. 

"  Are  we  now,  as  we  make  our  way  into  La 
Brie,  approaching  the  abode  of  this  same  lady  ?  " 

"  We  are,  my  lord." 

Louis  drummed  with  his  finger-tips  on  his  saddle 
bow  for  a  moment,  looking  aside  at  Norbert's  scarf, 
an  end  of  which  had  fallen  outside  his  doublet,  in 
the  breast  of  which  he  carried  it. 

"  Does  the  lady  bear  for  her  crest  three  fleurs-de- 
lis  royal  on  a  field  azure  ?  "  he  asked  gayly. 


234 

"  With  a  baton  peri  added,  monsieur." 

"  Is  the  lady  known,  haply,  to  some  who  have 
had  the  privilege  of  seeing  her,  as  '  the  White  Ab 
bess  of  Jouarre  '  ?  " 

"  I  have  heard  so." 

"  Beshrew  me,  then,  if  the  lady  —  beautiful, 
princely,  yet  defenseless,  and,  it  may  be,  in  peril 
— be  not  daughter  of  the  Due  de  Montpensier, 
Mademoiselle  Charlotte  de  Bourbon!  "and  Louis' 
face  reflected  the  almost  devout  enthusiasm  of 
Norbert's. 

"  Monsieur  has  heard  of  the  lady — haply  knows 
her  ?  " 

"  Much,  indeed,  have  I  heard  of  this  lady  through 
her  cousin,  her  majesty  of  Navarre,  and  the  story 
of  her  life  has  ever  touched  my  heart  profoundly. 
Tontorf,  she  is  all  that  you  believe  her  to  be  in 
herself.  That  she  is  in  peril  I  do  not  know.  I 
trust  that  in  this  you  may  be  wrong.  But  it  will 
go  hard  with  us  if  we  seek  not  out  that  same  Abbey 
of  Jouarre,  which  lies  between  Meaux  and  this  Ro- 
zoy-en-Brie,  and  offer  not  ourselves  and  our  swords 
for  the  lady's  service  if  so  be  there  is  need  of 
them." 

With  these  last  words  Louis  extended  his  hand 
and  took  that  of  Norbert  with  a  strong,  expressive 
grasp. 

"  I  like  you,  Norbert  Tontorf,"  he  said,  as  they 
put  their  horses  to  the  gallop  at  the  top  of  the  hill, 
where  a  level  stretch  of  country  lay  before  them. 
"I  have  always  felt  my  soul  drawn  to  yours  in  the 
manliness  of  your  sorrow,  your  self-command,  and 
your  patriotic  devotion.  But  now  I  am  knit  to  you 
by  another  bond,  for  in  this  troubadour-like  pledg 
ing  of  your  service  to  an  unknown  lady,  invisible 
and  remote,  but  sacrosanct  to  you,  like  the  vision 
of  an  angel,  you  have  shown  me  your  inner  nature, 
high  and  chivalrous,  and  I  love  you  for  it.  Here 
after  the  bond  between  us  two  is  strengthened." 


235 

Touched  too  deeply  to  reply,  Norbert  received 
the  words  of  the  gallant  count,  himself  as  pure  a 
virgin  knight  as  Sir  Galahad,  religiously,  as  if  they 
bestowed  a  priestly  benediction.  In  silence  they 
rode  on  together. 


XXIII 

"THE  AFFAIR  AT  MEAUX  " 

HAT  river  mouth  is  that  ?  "  asked  Louis  of 
Nassau,  pointing  to  the  southern  shore 
of  the  Marne,  where,  between  long  lines 
of  verdure,  a  smaller  stream  poured  its  waters  into 
the  deep  river,  its  shallow  rapids  tossing  brightly  in 
the  morning  sun. 

"The  Petit-Morin,  monsieur,"  replied  the  boat 
man. 

"And  what  is  that  little  town  ?  "  inquired  the 
count,  indicating  a  cluster  of  houses  at  the  river's 
mouth,  with  three  fine  stone  bridges  and  a  quaint 
old  mill  built  on  a  shoal  in  the  middle  of  the  stream. 
In  the  distance,  on  a  green  hill,  rose  the  towers  of 
a  stately  abbey. 

"La  Ferte-sous-Jouarre,  monsieur." 

Louis  and  Norbert  exchanged  a  hurried  glance. 

They  sat,  the  one  in  the  stern,  the  other  in  the 
bow  of  a  small  boat  which  they  had  hired  at  Charly. 
The  pastor,  Chaudon,  had  been  right,  and  Count 
Louis  had  been  disappointed  in  his  hope  of  reaching 
Meaux  on  the  preceding  night.  Lodging  at  Charly 
and  leaving  their  exhausted  horses  behind,  early  in 
the  morning  they  had  started  down  the  Marne, 
hiring  two  boatmen  to  row  them  as  far  as  Meaux, 
where  fresh  horses  could  easily  be  obtained. 

Hardly  had  Louis  had  time  to  frame  the  question 
which  sprang  to  his  lips,  when,  as  they  rounded 
the  bank  which  rose  to  the  east  of  the  mouth  of  the 
little  affluent,  the  boatman  exclaimed  : 

"  Voilcl !     There  comes  at  the  moment  the  barge 
of  the  ladies  of  Jouarre  !  " 
236 


237 

As  he  spoke  a  white-canopied  craft,  covered  with 
crimson  cloth  whose  gold  fringes  nearly  touched 
the  water,  shot  out  into  the  Marne,  strongly  pro 
pelled  by  four  sturdy  oarsmen,  and,  steering  east 
ward,  preceded  their  own  boat  in  the  direction  of 
Meaux. 

From  a  slender  staff  at  the  bow  a  small  white 
pennon  was  flying. 

At  a  signal  from  Louis  their  boatmen  bent  more 
vigorously  to  the  oars,  and  they  soon  approached 
the  little  craft,  so  nearly  as  to  discern  the  device 
on  this  flying  pennon. 

Both  young  men  bent  eagerly  forward  with 
kindling  faces.  Louis  spoke. 

"  Three  fleurs-de-lis  royal,"  he  said,  "  on  a  field 
azure  !  Yes,  the  baton  peri  also,"  and,  much  mar 
veling,  he  glanced  at  Norbert. 

The  young  Zeelander  maintained  his  character 
istic  silence.  His  lips  were  firmly  closed,  no  ex 
citement  or  impulsive  fervor  broke  in  words  from 
them,  but  in  his  eyes  was  a  new  light,  high  and 
eager. 

They  were  now  nearly  abreast  of  the  boat.  In  the 
bow  sat  three  blackrobed  nuns  of  the  Benedictine 
order.  Next  were  the  rowers'  seats.  The  stern 
was  concealed  from  their  eyes  by  the  curtains 
which  fell  from  the  canopy. 

Suddenly  from  the  right  bank  of  the  river  a 
wherry  came  into  view  filled  with  armed  men,  and 
a  shot  from  an  arquebus  struck  the  water  just 
athwart  the  bows  of  the  graceful  canopied  craft. 

The  stout  fellows  who  filled  the  rowers'  benches 
dropped  their  oars  and  seized  their  short  swords, 
while  Count  Louis  swiftly  guided  his  own  boat  to 
a  point  where  it  lay  between  the  other  two. 

Again  a  shot  skipped  across  the  river's  surface 
followed  quickly  by  a  third.  Louis  and  Norbert 
had  both  drawn  their  pistols  and  stood  in  their  boat 
ready  to  repel  the  attacking  party. 


238 

They  could  see  plainly  now,  with  a  joyous  thrill 
of  wonder,  that  behind  the,  curtains  in  the  stern, 
beside  another  black-robed  Benedictine,  sat  a  lady 
in  the  habit  of  superieure,  but  clad  wholly  in  white. 

The  wherry  had  now  approached  midstream,  and 
as  it  came  within  speaking  distance  a  tall  man  in 
the  dress  of  a  Huguenot  officer  waved  a  white 
handkerchief  as  he  stood  in  the  prow  and  called  : 

"  Where  are  you  bound,  and  who  are  you  ?  " 

Instantly  the  white  abbess  in  the  stern  rose  and 
stood  her  full  height,  and  in  a  voice  not  loud,  but  so 
clear  that  every  syllable  could  be  distinctly  heard, 
replied  : 

"  We  are  sisters  from  the  Abbey  of  Jouarre,  bound 
for  Meaux  to  the  festival  of  Saint  Michael.  Who 
are  you  who  fire  upon  defenseless  women  ?  " 

When  Charlotte  de  Bourbon  rose  in  her  place 
the  nun  who  had  been  seated  at  her  right  had 
sprung  to  her  feet  as  if  to  interpose  her  own  body 
between  her  lady  and  the  soldiers. 

Norbert,  who  at  first  could  see  only  the  pure  face 
and  queenly  form  of  the  lady  of  his  dreams,  mar 
veled  even  in  that  fleeting  moment  at  the  flashing 
eyes  and  fearless  spirit  of  the  young  religieuse  in 
contrast  with  her  companions,  whose  faces  were 
blanched  with  terror  at  this  alarming  onset. 

The  captain  of  the  little  company  had  turned 
and  spoken  with  one  of  his  men. 

"  But  you  fly  the  lilies  of  France  on  your  ban 
ner  !  "  he  called  again,  and  a  ring  of  menace  could 
be  distinctly  noted  in  his  voice. 

Count  Louis  and  Norbert  made  ready  to  fire. 
The  Abbess  of  Jouarre  although  she  had  not  turned 
toward  them  seemed  to  see  their  intent.  With  a 
motion  of  her  hand  she  forbade  it. 

"We  fly  the  lilies  of  France,"  she  answered, 
"because  the  Abbess  of  Jouarre  is  of  the  house  of 
Bourbon.  We  are  on  a  peaceful  and  a  pious 
errand.  Suffer  us  to  proceed  on  our  way."  With 


239 

this  word  she  gave  a  signal  to  the  oarsmen,  who  in 
stantly  bent  again  to  their  rowing  and  the  boat 
shot  swiftly  onward,  the  ladies  waving  their  thanks 
to  Louis  and  Norbert,  who  covered  their  retreat 
with  their  own  stout  little  shallop. 

Seeing  that  the  soldiers  in  the  wherry  and  their 
leader  were  still  irresolute  whether  to  follow  the 
boat  from  Jouarre,  the  count,  having  approached  by 
a  few  strokes,  cried  imperiously  : 

"  Why  do  you  make  war  on  nuns,  monsieur  ? 
Surely  this  was  a  bad  blunder  !  "  and  in  a  lower 
tone  he  murmured  the  secret  countersign  of  the 
Huguenots,  received  from  Maitre  Chaudon,  care 
lessly  adding  his  own  name.  Instantly  the  threat 
ening  manner  of  the  leader  changed  and  he  saluted 
Louis  of  Nassau  with  profound  respect. 

"  We  were  on  the  watch,  to  be  sure,  monseig- 
neur,"  he  said,  "for  larger  game,  and  at  first  flash 
thought  we  had  it.  But  I  am  not  sure  that  this 
ought  to  have  slipped  through." 

"Wait  for  your  larger  game,  my  friend,"  said 
Louis  carelessly,  "  and  forbear  to  attack  women  on 
their  way  to  church,  whatever  flag  they  fly.  Row 
on,"  he  added  to  the  boatmen,  and  they  were  soon 
following  in  the  wake  of  the  boat  from  Jouarre  as 
it  glided  now  between  the  houses  and  gardens  of 
the  city  of  Meaux. 

From  the  distance  they  watched  the  boat  as  it 
was  made  fast  at  the  Watergate  of  the  episcopal 
palace  garden,  and  saw  the  four  black  figures  fol 
low  the  one  in  white  into  the  enclosure  of  the 
palace  and  disappear. 

Shortly  after  they  themselves  were  landed  farther 
down  the  river.  Having  paid  and  discharged  their 
oarsmen  they  followed  the  moving  crowd  which 
filled  the  streets  of  the  little  city  flocking  to  the 
cathedral  of  St.  Etienne,  where  the  ceremonies 
preceding  the  great  feast  of  St.  Michael  were  about 
to  be  celebrated. 


240 

As  they  entered  the  nave,  pushed  forward  by  the 
throng,  some  one  touched  Louis  of  Nassau  on  the 
shoulder.  Turning  quickly  he  saw  close  behind 
him  two  gentlemen,  plainly  dressed  but  of  self-pos 
sessed  and  noble  bearing,  the  elder  of  whom,  a  man 
of  not  less  than  fifty  years,  with  a  finely  cut  face, 
said  in  a  low  voice  : 

"Well  met,  monsieur.  I  will  wait  your  conven 
ience. 

"  D'Averly  !  "  was  the  exclamation  of  the  count 
under  his  breath.  "  What  could  be  better  timed  !  " 
and  he  saluted  both  gentlemen  with  gracious 
courtesy. 

"Know  you  where  Conde  is  ?  "  Norbert  heard 
his  whispered  question  and  caught  the  reply : 

"  He  should  be  here  anon  or  his  quarry  will  es 
cape  him."  But  there  was  neither  time  nor  chance 
for  further  speech,  for  the  organ  and  trumpets  were 
thundering  forth  their  music  and  up  the  nave  swept 
the  great  procession  of  chanting  priests  and  acolytes, 
monks  and  nuns,  bearing  lighted  candles,  and  at 
tending  the  effigy  of  the  saint,  borne  aloft  beneath 
a  baldachin  and  preceded  and  followed  by  gorgeous 
banners.  Last  of  all,  in  full  pontificals,  walked  the 
Lord  Bishop  of  Meaux. 

Norbert's  eyes  scarcely  noted  the  details  of  the 
brilliant  concourse,  for  they  were  fixed  upon  the 
ranks  of  nuns  of  various  orders,  black  and  white 
and  gray,  who  paced  onward  with  downcast  eyes 
and  slow  steps.  He  stood  beside  Louis  in  the  front 
row  of  the  crowd,  where  both  could  scan  the  ranks 
for  the  figure  of  the  white  abbess. 

A  touch  of  Louis'  hand  upon  his  arm  gave 
warning  of  her  approach.  Yes,  she  was  there,  and 
upon  her  fair  young  head  rested  the  slender  golden 
circlet;  from  her  shoulders  swept  snowy,  ermine- 
mantled  drapery  ;  her  white  hands  clasped  the  cru 
cifix  upon  her  breast,  her  eyes  were  lifted  with  a 
steadfast,  forward  gaze,  and  upon  her  face  was  the 


241 

radiant  repose  of  an  undefiled  and  noble  spirit. 
Both  young  cavaliers  felt  their  pulses  leap  with  the 
ardor  of  devotion  with  which  a  presence  so  pure, 
so  lofty,  so  removed  from  out  their  reach,  inspired 
them.  But  already  the  vision  was  fading,  the  lady 
had  passed.  Behind  her,  bearing  the  sweep  of  her 
long  train  came  two  black-robed  figures,  both  slen 
der  and  gracieuse,  with  faces  fair  and  young  framed 
in  by  the  white,  conventual  bands.  Surely  she 
who  walked  nearest,  as  she  reached  them,  raised 
the  dark  lashes  which  swept  the  soft  bloom  of  her 
cheek,  and  beneath  them  broke  forth  a  lustrous 
gleam  of  recognition.  It  seemed  to  Norbert,  more 
over,  that  that  bloom  deepened  to  a  richer  hue  as 
she  caught  his  eager  gaze  resting  upon  her.  He 
knew  her  for  the  young  nun  who  had  stood  by  the 
side  of  her  siiperieure  in  the  boat  in  their  recent  en 
counter.  Then  the  long  lashes  drooped  again  to 
the  demure  propriety  of  the  monastic  habit  and  the 
procession  had  swept  on,  leaving  Norbert  with  all 
his  blood  tingling  in  his  veins,  he  knew  not  why. 

An  hour  later,  at  the  close  of  the  celebration,  as 
he  and  his  companions  were  trying  to  force  their 
way  out  of  the  crowded  cathedral,  the  brothers 
d'Averly  having  closely  attended  Count  Louis 
since  their  first  encounter,  Norbert  felt  a  slip  of 
paper  thrust  into  his  hand.  Turning  hastily,  he 
searched  in  vain  among  the  throng  which  hemmed 
him  in  on  every  side  for  sight  of  the  personage  who 
had  thus  approached  him.  He  could  see  no  one 
who  showed  the  slightest  interest  in  himself  nor 
the  shadow  of  a  desire  to  communicate  with  him. 

Holding  the  paper  concealed  in  his  hand,  he  read 
with  amazement  the  few  words  which  were  written 
upon  it  with  evident  haste  : 

"  The  lady  whose  colors  you  wear  awaits  you  at  the 
foot  of  the  palace  garden." 

Norbert's  heart  beat  high  with  startled  excite 
ment.  Was  the  exalted,  inaccessible  Abbess  of 

Q 


242 

Jouarre  indeed  about  to  favor  him  with  the  long- 
desired  interview  and  afford  him  the  opportunity  to 
lay  his  sword  and  service  at  her  feet  ?  So  great 
an  honor  seemed  impossible,  and  yet — her  attend 
ant,  the  young  religieuse,  whose  youth  and  beauty 
and  high  spirit  suited  so  ill  the  severity  of  her  garb 
and  the  austerity  of  her  vocation,  surely  she  had 
given  but  now  a  token  of  recognition  which  might 
foreshow  even  such  favor  as  this. 

Norbert,  who  had  for  several  moments  lost  sight 
of  his  comrades  and  who  now  found  himself  pressed 
onward  to  the  outer  portal  of  the  cathedral,  looked 
anxiously  about  him  for  a  sight  of  Count  Louis,  but 
in  vain.  He  and  the  gentlemen  who  had  joined 
him  had  wholly  vanished,  and  to  seek  them  out  in 
the  throng  was  plainly  useless. 

What  was  to  be  done  ? 

The  note  in  Norbert's  hand  gave  him  his  answer. 
"The  lady  .  .  .  awaits  you."  This  present  tense 
was  imperative.  A  gentleman  could  not  fail  to  re 
spond  swiftly  and  promptly  to  such  a  summons. 

Meaux  was  but  a  small  city.  He  remembered  the 
name  of  the  street — the  Rue  d'Acier — in  which 
dwelt  the  d'Averly  brothers,  the  Sieurs  de  Minay, 
for  his  father  had  lodged  with  these  well-known 
Huguenot  gentlemen  two  years  ago,  after  his  visit 
to  the  Abbey  of  Jouarre,  and  had  laid  much  stress 
on  their  gracious  hospitality.  He  could  find  his  lord 
later.  He  must  seek  his  lady  now. 

Passing  through  the  palace  garden,  Norbert  soon 
reached  the  margin  of  the  river,  where  a  fringe  of 
willows  overhung  the  bank  and  a  flower-bordered 
alley  stretched  far  into  dim,  green  shadows. 

No  one  was  in  sight.  At  the  left  and  not  far  re 
moved  from  where  he  stood  rose  the  high  palace 
wall.  In  it,  at  the  end  of  the  alley,  was  a  heavy 
iron  gate,  before  which  paced  a  double  guard  of 
soldiers.  Men  and  women  in  gala  attire  were  saun 
tering  through  the  pleasant  paths  of  the  garden, 


243 

but  none  seemed  inclined  to  turn  their  steps  his 
way. 

Then,  suddenly,  coming  he  hardly  knew  from 
which  direction,  there  was  a  light  footfall  and  the 
figure  of  a  woman,  slight  and  graceful,  wrapped 
closely  in  a  long,  black  mantilla  which  covered  her 
head  and  fell  nearly  to  her  feet,  approached  him. 

It  was  not  the  Abbess  of  Jouarre.  This  Norbert 
knew  on  the  instant  and  felt  at  once  also  the  wild 
presumption  of  dreaming  that  she  could  have  pro 
posed  meeting  him  thus.  But  there  was  her  attend 
ant,  the  dark-eyed  Benedictine  ;  surely  it  was  not 
impossible  that  she  might  have  come  as  a  messen 
ger  in  place  of  her  mistress  ! 

With  deepest  deference,  Norbert  made  his  obeis 
ance  before  the  lady,  catching  between  the  folds  of 
her  mantilla  the  flash  of  a  pair  of  bright,  dark 
eyes. 

Two  swift  steps  brought  her  close  before  him, 
and  he  heard  with  quick  amazement  and  dismay  a 
low,  rippling  laugh,  in  which  he  caught  the  familiar 
echo  of  a  voice  he  had  hoped  never  to  hear  again. 

"  Valerie  !  "  he  cried  under  his  breath. 

"  You  will  wear  my  colors  now,  at  least,  you  key- 
cold  varlet  !  "  she  whispered,  and  quick  as  a  flash 
she  darted  into  his  breast  a  thrust  of  a  small  dagger 
which  she  had  held  concealed  in  her  drapery. 

The  coat  of  chain  mail  which  Norbert  wore  under 
his  doublet  turned  aside  the  dagger,  so  that  it  drew 
no  blood. 

"You  are  out  of  practice,  senora,"  he  said  con 
temptuously.  And  as  he  spoke  he  struck  her  wrist 
a  sudden  flick  which  shook  the  dagger  from  her 
grasp.  It  shot  upward  and  then  fell  on  the  grassy 
path  at  her  feet. 

"  Au  secours!  au  secours!"  cried  Valerie  at  the 
top  of  her  voice,  springing  back.  "  Hither  to  me  ! 
Hither !  A  spy,  a  spy  !  " 

With  these   cries,   shrill   and   alarming,    ringing 


244 

through  the  quiet  precincts  of  the  garden,  a  crowd 
gathered  about  them,  but  foremost  of  all,  and  be 
fore  he  could  turn  or  seek  escape  from  the  place, 
the  guard  from  the  palace  gate  was  upon  him. 

"Seize  him,  seize  him  !  "  cried  Valerie  passion 
ately.  "He  is  a  Huguenot  spy.  I  know  him. 
He  recognized  me  as  I  walked  quietly  on  the  river's 
bank,  and  feared  I  would  betray  him.  See,"  and 
she  held  up  the  dagger,  "  he  sought  my  very  life 
to  save  himself  from  discovery.  He  came  from 
Conde,  and  he  is  in  the  plot  against  his  majesty." 

Throwing  back  these  artful  words,  Valerie  slipped 
into  the  crowd  and  disappeared  from  Norbert's  sight 
not  only  for  the  time  but  forever.  Her  later  his 
tory  he  never  knew.  That  of  her  infamous  Span 
ish  accomplices  became  but  too  well  known  to  him 
in  the  following  years. 

Resistance  being  obviously  useless,  Norbert  sub 
mitted  to  the  guard,  who  now  hurried  him  to  the 
water-tower  of  the  bishop's  palace  and  thrust  him 
into  a  small,  cell-like  chamber. 

"  It  matters  not,"  said  his  captors  curtly,  in 
answer  to  his  remonstrance,  "whether  the  jade 
spoke  truth  or  not.  If  she  lied,  it  will  do  thee  no 
harm,  young  master,  to  partake  for  a  day  or  two 
of  the  bishop's  hospitality.  If  she  told  truth,  the 
best  place  for  thee  is  the  bottom  of  the  river, 
which  thou  mayest  shortly  find.  The  uproar  about 
the  court  and  the  plot  against  their  majesties  forbid 
that  we  should  leave  at  large  gentlemen  who  may 
chance  to  be  in  the  Little  Man's  employ." 

With  this  terse  explanation,  Norbert  saw  the  door 
of  his  prison  closed  upon  him.  As  the  slow  hours 
dragged  on  he  strode  up  and  down  his  narrow  cell, 
hot  with  rage  at  his  own  fond,  credulous  folly, 
which  had  suffered  him  to  walk  thus  open-eyed 
into  Valerie's  snare.  A  hundred  questions  rose  to 
which  he  could  find  no  answer. 

Whence   came  Valerie  and  how  had  she  found 


245 

him  out  ?  Why  was  she  at  Meaux  ?  What  would 
Count  Louis  think  of  his  inexplicable  desertion  ? 
If  he  escaped  alive  from  this  trap  would  the  prince 
cease  to  honor  him  with  his  confidence,  since  he 
had  shown  himself  thus  easily  betrayed  ?  Upon 
such  food  for  thought  did  Norbert  feed  that  day. 

Evening  was  well  advanced  when  the  door  of  his 
prison  was  cautiously  opened,  and  a  stout  fellow, 
armed  and  wary,  bearing  a  trencher  of  coarse  food, 
presented  himself. 

Convinced  that  the  court  had  actually  reached 
Meaux  despite  the  watchfulness  of  the  Huguenots, 
and  was  even  now  in  hiding  in  this  same  episcopal 
palace,  Norbert,  concealing  his  real  desperation, 
said  in  a  tone  of  easy  confidence  as  he  took  the  food  : 

"Hold  there  a  moment,  my  friend  !  Know  you 
what  fools  those  soldiers  wereMo  shut  up  here  the 
fellow  who  has  risked  his  life  to  break  the  Hugue 
not  lines,  and  who  comes  to  bring  tidings  of  the 
Swiss  from  up  the  river  at  Chateau-Thierry  to  their 
majesties  ?  " 

"How  is  that?"  asked  the  servant,  staring 
blankly. 

Norbert  repeated  the  words. 

"  Here  am  I,"  he  continued,  "  no  spy,  but  a  true 
man,  coming  on  a  mission  of  high  importance  from 
the  Palatine  Elector  to  the  court  of  France,  fight 
ing  on  my  way  to  rescue  a  princess  of  the  blood 
from  the  Huguenots  as  she  attempted  to  reach 
Meaux,  and  then,  on  the  brazen  slander  of  a  Spanish 
wanton,  I  am  thrown  into  this  dungeon  ere  yet  I 
can  discharge  my  errand  or  have  speech  of  her 
majesty  the  queen-mother.  I  demand  to  be  taken 
at  once  into  the  presence  of  her  majesty  !  " 

With  these  words  spoken  with  convincing  au 
thority  Norbert  confronted  the  perplexed  servant. 

"  Do  you  know  that  lady  whose  word  sent  you 
here  ?  "  he  asked,  after  a  pause,  blinking  dubiously. 

"To   my  infinite   regret,"  said  Norbert  coolly, 


246 

"  I  have  seen  that  person  several  times  in  Antwerp. 
What  devil's  business  brings  her  to  Meaux,  do 
you  know  ?  " 

"  Devil's  business,  by  St.  Michael !  "said  the  serv 
ant,  laughing  silently.  "  She  purports  to  be  modiste 
ct  la  Royne-Mere,  and  to  come  hither  from  Paris  in 
attendance  on  the  court.  It  is  easy  to  guess,  mon 
sieur,  that  she  has  other  business,  as  you  seem  to 
have  already  learned  to  your  sorrow.  An  revoir  for 
the  present.  I  can  do  no  less  than  present  your  de 
mand  to  the  major-domo." 

With  this  the  man  departed,  but  to  Norbert's  sur 
prise  and  speechless  relief,  he  returned  in  a  brief 
half-hour,  and  bade  him  follow  him  to  the  central 
portion  of  the  palace. 

The  hour  was  late,  but  the  halls  and  passages 
were  full  of  excited,  hurrying  retainers  and  gentle 
men.  Every  entrance  was  carefully  guarded,  Nor- 
bert  noted,  by  detachments  of  the  Swiss  soldiery, 
the  personal  bodyguard  of  the  queen-mother. 

At  a  rear  entrance  a  little  group  of  men  were  hur 
riedly  attending  a  prelate  of  tall  and  imposing  figure, 
wrapped  closely  in  a  long  mantle,  who  was  about 
to  make  a  hasty  exit. 

"The  cardinal  himself!"  whispered  Norbert's 
attendant.  "He  dare  not  wait  longer,  you  see. 
He  knows  full  well  the  Huguenots  would  show  him 
no  mercy." 

Reflecting  with  some  emotion  that  he  had  seen 
the  arch-enemy  of  Protestantism  in  France,  Charles 
de  Guise,  Cardinal  Lorraine,  Norbert  now  followed 
his  guide  up  a  fine  staircase  to  a  portal  closely 
guarded  by  four  Swiss  of  gigantic  stature. 

Here  the  major-domo,  whose  appearance  showed 
great  agitation  and  anxiety,  met  Norbert  with  the 
abrupt  question  : 

"  Your  name,  monsieur  ?  " 

"Roubichon." 

"Your  errand  ?  " 


247 

"  I  come  from  the  court  of  Heidelberg,  with  im 
portant  information  for  her  majesty.  On  my  way 
hither  I  have  had  opportunity  to  observe  the  move 
ments  of  the  Swiss  soldiery,  also  of  the  Huguenots. 
I  can  give  the  court  advices  which  may  be  of  serv 
ice." 

Norbert's  firm  and  serious  countenance,  his  grave, 
confident  speech,  and  the  grace  of  his  bearing 
seemed  to  carry  conviction  with  them.  The  one 
thing  which  the  court  frantically  desired  at  that 
hour  was  knowledge  of  the  whereabouts  of  the 
Swiss. 

In  another  moment  Norbert  found  himself  in  a 
brightly  lighted  room,  magnificent  in  its  appoint 
ments,  but  full  of  confusion  and  the  marks  of  hasty 
preparation  for  departure.  Dazzled  by  the  moving 
groups  of  great  ladies  and  gentlemen,  among  whom 
he  discerned  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Meaux  and  other 
dignitaries  of  the  procession  which  he  had  witnessed 
in  the  cathedral,  Norbert  followed  the  major-domo 
into  an  inner  apartment,  where  a  lady  in  a  black 
velvet  robe  and  pointed  white  cap  was  walking  the 
floor  in  uncontrollable  excitement.  A  youth  in  rich 
costume  of  velvet  and  miniver,  with  pallid  face  and 
nervous  restlessness,  was  standing  by  a  window 
through  which  he  cautiously  peered  from  time  to 
time  into  the  street  below.  Knowing  that  he  was 
now  indeed  in  the  Presence,  Norbert  dropped  upon 
his  knee,  but  without  waiting  for  aught  of  ceremony 
Catharine  de  Medici,  whose  usually  impassive  face 
wore  at  this  time  the  stamp  of  fierce  terror  and  ire, 
exclaimed  harshly : 

"  Tell  me  quickly,  young  sir,  what  you  have  to 
tell.  I  care  not  so  much  for  the  tidings  you  bring 
from  Germany.  That  can  wait  till  this  present 
danger  is  overpast.  I  learn  that  you  have  come 
down  the  river  to-day  and  have  broken  through  the 
Huguenot  lines.  Where  were  the  laggard  Swiss 
when  you  passed  them  and  why  do  they  not  move 


248 

forward  rapidly  ?  Is  it  not  understood  that  the 
court  is  in  imminent  peril  from  this  shameless  con 
spiracy  of  Louis  Bourbon  ?  " 

"Your  majesty,"  said  Norbert,  looking  with  a 
calmness  with  which  he  was  himself  amazed  into 
the  darkened  and  bitter  countenance  of  Catharine, 
"to  the  best  of  my  belief  the  advance  guard  of  the 
Swiss  must  by  this  time  be  as  near  us  as  La  Ferte- 
sous-Jouarre." 

"Say  you  so?"  cried  Catharine.  "Listen, 
monsieur,"  and  she  turned  to  the  young  king,  who 
had  been  furtively  watching  Norbert  with  cold  and 
restless  eyes. 

"I  hear,  madame,"  he  said  shortly.  "  It  were 
better  that  they  were  at  Meaux.  Upon  what  do 
you  build  your  belief  ?  "  he  asked,  glancing  at  Nor 
bert  with  sullen  hauteur. 

"  As  I  passed  Chateau-Thierry,  sire,  they  were 
mustering  rapidly,  at  Cheszy  I  saw  a  large  de 
tachment,  and  Charly  was  full  of  them;"  thus 
Norbert  sought  to  expand  to  its  utmost  the  small 
knowledge  in  his  possession,  feeling  himself  sub 
ject  to  keen  suspicion  on  the  part  of  the  king. 
Catharine's  agitation  was  so  great  as  to  rob  her  for 
the  moment  of  her  wonted  penetration. 

"We  knew  as  much  as  that  before,"  said  the 
king,  whose  incredulity  appeared  to  be  increasing. 
"What  is  it  we  hear,  young  man,  regarding  your 
attempt  to  rescue  some  member  of  our  family  on 
the  way  to  Meaux  this  morning  ?  The  court 
reached  Meaux  last  night." 

Norbert's  cheeks  flushed  scarlet.  To  be  guilty 
of  boasting  of  such  small  service  as  he  had  attempted 
in  behalf  of  the  Abbess  of  Jouarre  seemed  a  craven 
trick.  He  hesitated  and  stood  confused,  conscious 
that  the  eyes  of  both  Charles  and  Catharine  rested 
upon  him  with  awakening  suspicion. 

"  It  was  but  the  slightest  service,  your  majesty. 
I  shame  me  much  to  mention  it,"  he  murmured. 


249 

"  The  name  of  the  lady,  sir,  if  you  please,"  said 
Catharine  sharply. 

"  Her  grace,  Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon,  lady 
superieure  of  Jouarre." 

Norbert  spoke  the  words  low  and  as  if  he  feared 
to  profane  the  name  by  thus  using  it  in  his  own 
defense. 

"  Bid  Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon  come  hither," 
said  Catharine,  promptly  turning  to  one  of  the 
ladies  who  attended  her. 

A  light  step,  the  rustle  of  a  silken  train,  and  the 
inner  doorway  of  the  room  framed  in  the  actual 
presence  of  the  fair  maiden-abbess,  the  vision  of 
whom,  as  painted  for  him  by  his  father,  Nikolaas 
Tontorf,  Norbert  had  so  long  borne  in  his  imagina 
tion. 

Before  she  spoke,  seeing  him  thus  standing, 
Charlotte  de  Bourbon  smiled,  and  her  eyes  smiled 
a  sweet,  slow  recognition  before  her  lips,  and, 
seeing  her  thus,  Norbert  felt  as  if  he  were  in  a 
dream  and  wished  that  the  dream  might  never 
know  waking. 

But  when  she  spoke  in  answer  to  the  queen- 
mother  a  sharp  pang  shot  through  his  heart  that  it 
was  she  who,  after  all,  must  needs  come  to  his 
guardiance,  not  he  to  hers. 

"  Oh,  yes,  your  majesty,"  he  heard  her  say 
quite  simply,  "this  young  gentleman  and  another 
with  him,  although  I  know  neither  their  name  nor 
nation,  adventured  their  own  lives  in  true  knightly 
fashion  for  us  on  our  way  to  Meaux  this  morning. 
Glad  am  I  that  1  now  may  speak  our  heartfelt  grati 
tude.  The  banks  of  the  river  were  patroled,  your 
majesty,  by  Huguenot  soldiers  waiting  to  intercept 
and  seize  your  persons  should  you  approach  the 
city  by  the  river,  not  knowing  that  you  were 
already  safely  here.  They  mistook  us  for  your 
majesties  and  fired  upon  us." 

"  And  from  this  danger  you  were  rescued  by  this 


bold  young  gallant,  whose  name  even  I  do  not 
now  remember  !  "  cried  Catharine.  "  It  was  well 
done,  young  man,  and  you  have  earned  your  re 
lease  from  duress  in  advance." 

"  Madame,"  exclaimed  the  king,  coming  to  her 
side,  "  let  us  take  another  time  for  the  exchange  of 
compliments.  The  street  below  is  swarming  with 
Swiss.  They  are  here  at  last." 

Instantly  the  room  became  a  scene  of  the  live 
liest  commotion  as  Catharine,  Charles,  and  their 
attendants  prepared  to  avail  themselves  of  their 
longed-for  escort  and  make  good  their  escape  in  the 
direction  of  Paris,  knowing  not  how  far  they  would 
be  able  to  proceed  without  encountering  the  forces 
of  Conde. 

Norbert  stood  apart,  in  no  wise  disturbed  as  to 
what  should  follow,  but  deeply  interested  in  watch 
ing  the  Abbess  of  Jouarre.  One  after  another  the 
four  nuns  of  her  company  had  entered  the  room 
and  they  now  formed  a  group  around  her,  a  group 
forgotten  and  overlooked  it  seemed  in  the  hasty 
excitement  of  the  moment. 

"  We  are  ready  now,  your  majesty  1  "  It  was 
the  Lord  Bishop  of  Meaux  himself  who  made  the 
announcement. 

Catharine  de  Medici  wrapped  closely  in  a  long 
black  cloak  swept  through  the  room  followed  by  a 
trembling  crowd  of  her  ladies.  Her  eyes  rested 
on  Charlotte  de  Bourbon  standing  quiet  and  undis 
mayed  among  her  nuns. 

"  Voild,,  ma  ch^re  petite  cousine!  "  she  exclaimed. 
"What  a  shame  to  leave  you  thus  unprotected! 
But  alas,  what  can  I  do  ?  Five  women  more  on 
this  wild  midnight  flight  might  cost  us  all  our  lives. 
By  my  faith  you  are  safer  here  !  " 

"Your  majesty,  do  not  waste  a  moment  more," 
said  Charlotte  with  gentle  urgency.  "  Hasten, 
hasten,  every  second  counts  !  Have  we  not  a  pro 
tector  here,  and  one  whose  courage  is  already 


251 

proven  ?  "  she  cried,  and  smiled  celestially  upon 
Norbert. 

"  Truly,  what  a  mercy  !  "  cried  the  queen  already 
at  the  door  ;  "  I  charge  you,  sir,"  she  called  back, 
"  as  you  are  a  leal  gentleman,  to  defend  Mademoi 
selle  and  see  that  she  and  her  maidens  reach  their 
convent  in  peace  and  safety.  Au  revoir!  " 

With  which  she  was  gone  and  with  her  the  whole 
frightened  company  of  courtiers  and  dames,  and 
the  bodyguard  of  Swiss  in  attendance. 


XXIV 
SUNRISE  ON  THE  ROAD 

"  1TNEATH  to  the  traitor  !     Tear  the  tiger  limb 
^_j     from  limb  !    *A  bas  le  Cardinal !  " 

Through  a  frenzied,  raging  mob,  the 
canaille  of  Meaux,  surging  about  the  bishop's 
palace,  and  filling  the  air  with  cries  like  these, 
Norbert,  with  the  aid  of  their  own  stout  serving- 
men,  conveyed  the  ladies  of  Jouarre. 

Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon  had  hastily  caught  up 
an  ecclesiastical  mantle  left  behind  by  the  bishop, 
and  had  wrapped  it  closely  about  her  to  conceal 
the  gleaming  white  of  her  dress,  and  without  a 
moment's  delay  they  had  fled  from  the  palace. 

Wild  with  excitement  at  the  plot  of  the  Hugue 
not  party  to  seize  the  persons  of  the  king  and  queen- 
mother  in  their  own  quiet  city,  the  inhabitants  of 
Meaux  had  been  yet  further  infuriated  by  a  report 
of  an  infamous  counter-plot  on  the  part  of  the 
powerful  and  unpopular  Guise  cardinal.  The  scum 
of  the  city  rose  to  the  surface,  and  regardless  of 
party  or  religion  the  mob  rushed  to  the  residence 
of  the  bishop,  armed  with  weapons  of  the  motliest 
sort,  their  purpose  to  lay  hold  of  the  cardinal  if, 
as  was  suspected,  he  were  still  there  in  hiding,  and 
then  to  sack  the  palace,  now  left  unguarded. 

Guided  to  the  residence  of  the  Sieurs  de  Minay 
in  the  Rue  d'Acier  by  one  of  the  men  from  the  con 
vent,  Norbert  was  overjoyed  as  they  approached 
the  house  to  see  in  the  moonlight,  pacing  the  pave 
ment  before  it,  the  figure  of  a  gentleman,  wrapped 
closely  in  a  long  military  mantle  below  which  could 
be  seen  the  point  of  his  sword. 
252 


253 

"  Count  Louis  !  "  he  called  in  a  low  voice. 

The  street,  which  was  at  a  distance  from  the 
palace,  was  almost  deserted. 

The  count  moved  to  Norbert's  side  and  saluted 
Mademoiselle  and  her  ladies  with  graceful  courtesy. 

"  This  is  better  than  we  dared  hope  !  "  he  ex 
claimed.  "  The  d'Averly  brothers  are  searching 
the  palace  for  your  highness  even  now,  but  will  soon 
return.  We  knew  that  you  were  there  earlier  in 
the  day  and  that  you  were  not  of  their  majesty's 
company  when  they  left  Meaux." 

"  And  how  has  it  fared  with  your  lordship  mean 
while  ?  "  asked  Norbert.  "  I  trust  you  lost  no  time 
by  my  disappearance." 

"Nay,  man,"  laughed  Louis,  who  was  as  cool 
and  debonair  as  if  this  were  a  masquerade,  "we 
doubted  not  you  would  come  to  light  in  good  time. 
We  hastened  on  to  Lagny  to  secure  speech  with 
the  Prince  of  Conde  ere  it  was  too  late." 

"Are  the  Huguenot  forces  then  at  Lagny, 
monsieur?"  asked  Charlotte,  with  eager  interest. 
"  Then  the  royal  party  will  be  intercepted." 

"  Doubtless,  your  highness  ;  but  I  think  not  for 
long.  The  Swiss  have  gathered  in  overpowering 
numbers.  Conde  has  but  five  hundred  gentlemen 
with  him.  The  plan  is  foredoomed  to  failure.  But 
what  I  would  say  is,  Conde,  learning  of  your  pres 
ence,  madame,  in  Meaux,  feared  you  might  be  in 
danger.  He  therefore  put  half  a  dozen  of  his  men 
wholly  at  my  disposal  for  your  protection,  and  they 
are  now  awaiting  your  orders." 

"This  was  most  thoughtful  of  my  cousin  of 
Conde,"  returned  Mademoiselle.  "  Let  us  lose  no 
time  then,  monsieur,  in  setting  out  on  our  home 
ward  way." 

Count  Louis  at  once  conducted  Mademoiselle  and 
her  ladies  into  the  house,  where  they  received  hos 
pitable  refreshment,  and  an  hour  later,  their  num 
ber  reinforced  by  the  d'Averly  brothers  and  the 


254 

escort  of  Conde,  the  strangely  assorted  company 
set  out  on  horseback  from  the  excited  little  city  on 
their  night  ride  to  Jouarre. 

The  size  of  the  party  protected  it  from  molesta 
tion  or  attack,  and  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning 
they  had  reached  La  Ferte-sous- Jouarre,  where 
fresh  horses  were  awaiting  them. 

"Are  you  not  very  weary,  madame  ?  "  asked 
Count  Louis,  as  he  lifted  Charlotte  de  Bourbon  to 
her  saddle  at  the  door  of  the  low  stone  inn  where 
they  had  made  their  rendezvous. 

"  Not  weary  in  the  least,  my  lord,"  she  replied 
composedly.  "  It  is  a  rare  chance  for  me  to  have 
an  early  morning  ride,  and  1  assure  you  I  mean  to 
enjoy  it  mightily." 

Louis  gayly  applauded  the  buoyancy  of  her 
spirit,  and  with  new  courage  the  company  set  out 
on  the  last  stage  of  their  journey. 

It  was  sunrise  when  they  approached  the  little 
hamlet  of  Jouarre  on  its  green  slope,  and  could  see 
the  Petit-Morin  gliding  under  the  morning  mists 
through  the  fair  abbey  meadows. 

But  what  was  that  which  darkened  the  road  in 
the  distance  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see  ? 

Count  Louis  bade  the  cavalcade  halt,  and  stood 
in  his  stirrups  to  scan  the  prospect.  A  hurried  con 
ference  with  the  Sieur  de  Minay  confirmed  his  own 
belief.  The  sun's  first  rays  fell  upon  white  banners 
and  serried  ranks  of  men-at-arms. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  fear,  madame,"  cried  Louis 
with  good  heart.  "  Yonder  march  the  Huguenot 
forces,  which  Admiral  Coligny  himself  is  bringing 
up  to  join  Conde  at  Lagny,  as  was  expected." 

Jeanne  de  Mousson,  as  they  again  rode  forward, 
but  at  a  slower  gait,  remarked  shyly  to  Norbert, 
who  rode  at  her  side  : 

"  You  are  to  have  your  wish,  monsieur.  You  are 
to  see  the  Admiral  of  France,  the  greatest  Prot 
estant  leader  in  Europe,  they  tell  me  !  " 


255 

"  I  believe  one  is  rising  to-day  who  may  prove 
himself  yet  greater  than  the  noble  Coligny,"  Nor- 
bert  made  earnest  answer.  "I  would  that  you 
could  see  monsigneur  the  prince." 

"You  speak  of  the  prince,  Captain  Roubichon, 
as  if  there  were  no  other  princes,"  said  Jeanne, 
laughing  blithely.  "  Whom  mean  you  ?  " 

"  There  is  but  one  prince  for  me,  mademoiselle," 
said  Norbert  sturdily,  "the  brother  of  the  Count  of 
Nassau,  William  of  Orange." 

"Say  you,  then,  that  he  is  a  finer  gentleman 
than  the  count  ?  That  I  think  can  scarcely  be  ! 
Surely  he  is  the  very  beau  ideal  of  a  young  knight ; 
courtly,  brave,  and  chivalrous,"  and  the  dark  eyes 
of  the  young  religieuse  brightened  with  undisguised 
admiration. 

"  Is  he  not  ?  "  cried  Norbert  eagerly.  "  I  could 
follow  him  to  the  earth's  ends,  and  so  would  every 
man  who  knows  him.  To  his  own  family,  the 
beautiful  old  mother  at  Dillenburg,  and  to  all  the 
brothers  and  sisters,  Count  Louis  is  like  the  Angel 
Gabriel.  He  comes  and  goes,  swift  and  sudden,  on 
his  ceaseless  quest,  and  they  watch  for  his  coming, 
and  mourn  when  he  departs,  as  if  he  were  the  very 
light  of  day." 

"  What  mean  you  by  his  ceaseless  quest  ?  "  asked 
Jeanne. 

"The  quest  for  aid  for  my  own  poor  land,"  re 
turned  Norbert,  in  a  more  serious  tone.  "  Ah,  mad 
emoiselle,  you  know  little,  here  in  your  quiet  life, 
of  the  agonies  which  are  desolating  the  Low  Coun 
tries  under  the  rule  of  the  Spanish  king  and  his 
deputy,  Alva." 

"  I  have  heard  of  the  terrible  bloodshed,"  replied 
Jeanne  ;  "  and  even  among  us  of  the  Catholic  faith 
in  France  the  name  of  Alva  is  execrated.  Small 
wonder,  seems  it  to  me,  that  a  new  uprising  of  them 
of  the  Religion  should  follow,  since  it  has  become 
known  that  the  queen-mother  invites  him  to  enter 


256 

France  and  employ  here  the  same  methods  with 
which  he  is  stamping  out  heresy  in  the  Nether 
lands." 

"  If  they  did  not  rise  they  would  be  less  than 
men  !  "  cried  Norbert  impetuously.  "  But  let  us 
not  stain  the  radiance  of  this  fair  morning  with  such 
thoughts  of  gloom  and  dread." 

"Tell  me,  rather,"  said  Jeanne,  "  how  you  can 
say  all  that  you  have  of  that  gentleman,"  and  she 
nodded  her  head  toward  Count  Louis,  who  was 
riding  in  advance  of  Norbert,  "and  still  say  that 
there  is  a  yet  nobler  Protestant  prince." 

Norbert  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  with  a 
.'smile  he  said  : 

"  Perhaps  you  will  better  conceive  my  meaning 
if  I  say  that  the  count  is  the  Mercury  of  our  Olym 
pus,  but  the  prince  is  great  Jove  himself." 

Jeanne  de  Mousson  shook  her  head  with  a  smile, 
roguish  and  demure. 

"You  are  quite  beyond  my  depth,  fair  sir.  I 
have  heard,  indeed,  that  our  own  convent  was  in 
far-away  ages  a  shrine  of  that  same  divinity,  for 
Jouarre  is  but  a  corruption  of  Joins  ara.  But  we 
nuns  are  not  encouraged  to  search  into  the  stories 
of  those  heathen  personages.  Our  lady  makes 
sure  that  we  all  have  our  thoughts  employed  on 
higher  things." 

Norbert  glanced  into  the  face  of  the  piquant 
Bearnaise,  in  whom  he  could  with  difficulty  discern 
the  monastic  character,  and  replied  : 

"  I  suppose  life  in  the  Abbey  of  Jouarre  is  one 
long  succession  of  prayers  and  penance." 

"  Nay,  Captain  Roubichon,"  was  the  earnest  re 
sponse,  "not  so.  Such  was  it,  indeed,  with  much 
tithing  of  our  revenues  added,  in  the  earlier  time, 
when  we  had  Madame  de  Long-Vic  and  Madame 
Cecile  Crue  over  us,  but  all  that  has  been  changed 
since  Mademoiselle  has  come  into  power." 

"  She  has  changed,  then,  the  convent  life  ?  " 


257 

"  That  has  she ;  and  the  greater  is  the  marvel 
since  her  years  are  even  now  but  twenty.  We  are 
taught  to  seek  less  our  own  perfection  and  the  en 
richment  of  our  own  abbey  than  to  save  and  succor 
all  the  poor  and  unfortunate  around  us.  Our  lady 
is  a  very  angel  of  light  through  all  this  part  of  La 
Brie.  You  might  hear  her  name  blessed  in  every 
lowliest  hut,  for  no  need  escapes  her.  If  we  did 
not  prevent  her  she  would  give  away  all  that  she 
possesses,  for  she  thinks  never  of  herself." 

"  Her  highness  is  of  a  most  charming  presence," 
said  Norbert,  who  had  found  the  reality  even  be 
yond  his  romantic  dream. 

"  Is  she  not  ?  "  cried  Jeanne  de  Mousson.  "  Her 
spirit  seems  to  fill  our  convent  in  every  corner  like 
the  blessed  sun.  When  there  is  trouble,  we  find 
her  ever  of  a  steady  courage.  When  all  is  bright, 
she  shames  not  to  be  frankly  gay,  and  thinks  a 
laugh  and  a  song  no  sin.  Look  at  her  now  !  Saw 
you  ever  so  sweet  a  saint  and  so  captivating  a 
creature  ?  As  I  live  by  bread,  at  this  moment  I 
could  e'en  wish  she  were  not  a  religieuse,  and  may 
I  be  forgiven  for  saying  it !  " 

The  little  cortege,  now  nearly  abreast  of  the  gate 
of  Jouarre  Abbey,  had  halted,  awaiting  the  Sieur  de 
Minay,  who  had  galloped  forward  to  hold  parley 
with  the  leaders  of  the  approaching  Huguenot  force. 

Charlotte  de  Bourbon  had  dismounted  before  the 
portal  of  her  own  stately  domain  and  stood  speak 
ing  to  Count  Louis. 

"  By  my  faith  I  could  swear  my  lord  echoes  that 
wish  !  "  murmured  Norbert,  under  his  breath. 

In  another  moment  three  gentlemen,  handsomely 
mounted,  and  accompanied  by  the  Sieur  de  Minay, 
galloped  up  to  the  little  group  and  dismounting  en 
gaged  for  a  moment  in  conversation  apart  with 
Count  Louis.  At  a  distance  stood  the  halted  regi 
ments,  and  sang  as  they  stood  in  strong  unison  one 
of  the  thrilling  hymns  of  the  Huguenot  army. 


258 

"Coligny,"  murmured  Jeanne  de  Mousson  to 
Norbert.  "  Ah,  but  he  is,  after  all,  every  inch  a 
soldier !  " 

Norbert  looked,  with  breathless  interest  and  deep 
veneration,  at  the  central  figure  in  the  small  but 
illustrious  assemblage,  the  gray-haired  veteran  of 
serious  and  gentle  face  and  of  imposing,  albeit  quiet 
dignity.  With  him  were  the  Chevalier  de  la  Noue, 
a  spirited,  soldierly  figure,  and  a  younger  nobleman 
of  peculiarly  winning  aspect  and  patrician  grace  of 
person,  the  lord  of  Teligny,  brother-in-law  to  La 
Noue. 

These  distinguished  gentlemen  greeted  the  Count 
of  Nassau  with  hearty  and  unaffected  cordiality  as 
a  friend  and  brother-at-arms,  but  without  waiting 
for  more  words  of  explanation  than  were  demanded 
by  the  unique  situation,  the  count  led  the  admiral 
across  to  where  she  stood  and  presented  him  to 
Charlotte  de  Bourbon. 

The  level  rays  of  the  new-risen  sun  illuminated 
the  face  and  figure  of  the  young  abbess  as  she 
stood  beside  her  horse,  both  set  against  the  back 
ground  of  the  dim  gray  convent  wall,  the  glistening 
folds  of  her  white  robe  sweeping  the  dewy  grass 
about  her  feet,  while  hanging  loosely  from  her 
shoulders  swept  the  heavy  folds  of  the  long  bishop's 
mantle.  The  nun's  hood  and  wimple,  by  their  de 
mure  severity,  accentuated  the  soft,  girlish  contour 
of  her  face,  while  whatever  of  monastic  gravity 
might  at  other  times  subdue  its  brightness  had 
vanished  in  the  stirring  and  eager  emotion  of  the 
moment.  The  delicate  bloom  of  her  cheeks  deep 
ened  as  she  received  the  stately  greeting  of  the  ad 
miral,  her  blue  eyes  were  full  of  the  light  of  high 
and  thrilling  excitement,  and  upon  her  whole  aspect 
rested  the  morning  dew  and  freshness  of  her  maid 
enhood. 

"  Will  my  lord  and  the  gentlemen  with  him  do 
such  honor  to  the  humble  convent  of  Jouarre  as 


259 

to  take  breakfast  within  its  walls  ?  "  she  said,  in 
her  clear  tones,  half-bashful,  half-imperious,  and 
smiled  with  unconscious,  delicate  flattery  into  the 
face  of  the  grave  old  warrior. 

"Very  gladly  would  we  thus  take  honor  to  our 
selves,  your  highness,"  replied  Coligny,  bowing  pro 
foundly  with  a  look  of  admiration  at  once  fatherly 
and  knightly  ;  "  but  we  might  by  thus  doing  bring 
some  scathe  to  the  fair  abbess  of  this  same  con 
vent.  Were  it  well  that  it  should  go  abroad  that 
soldiers  of  the  Religion  had  broken  bread  within 
your  walls,  Mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  At  Jouarre,  my  lord,"  Charlotte  made  answer, 
"  you  will  find  yourselves  on  neutral  ground.  Ac 
cording  to  our  rule  and  order,  no  one  who  requires 
our  hospitality  can  be  turned  away.  To-day  we 
will  gladly  give  your  lordship  such  entertainment 
as  suits  our  simple  estate,  and  to-morrow  we  will 
as  gladly,  if  need  be,  give  the  same  to  my  lord  of 
Montmorency." 

"Wisely  and  worthily  spoken,  Mademoiselle," 
said  Coligny  gravely,  "and  on  such  terms  we  will 
gladly  avail  ourselves  of  your  favor." 

Command  was  quickly  given  to  the  regiments, 
which  remained  halted  on  the  highway,  that  an 
hour  would  now  be  taken  for  breakfast,  and  fol 
lowed  by  her  own  company,  augmented  by  the 
admiral,  La  Noue,  and  Teligny,  Charlotte  de  Bour 
bon  entered  the  abbey  gates. 

But  if  the  young  chevaliers  had  for  a  moment 
dreamed  that  the  hospitality  of  Jouarre  was  to  be 
administered  to  them  in  person  by  its  fair  and 
princely  superieure  they  quickly  found  their  mistake. 

Having  attended  them  with  all  good  grace  and 
courtesy  to  the  noble  guest  house  at  the  right  of 
the  convent  court,  where  she  entrusted  them  -to 
the  care  of  the  guest-master,  Charlotte  parted  with 
them  on  its  threshold.  But  ere  she  withdrew  to 
her  own  hall  the  lady  beckoned  the  Count  of  Nas- 


2(5o 

sau  and  Norbert  to  her  side  and  thanked  them  for 
their  devoted  service  and  the  rescue  of  herself  and 
her  demoiselles  from  the  perils  of  the  night  and  of 
the  previous  day. 

"  Your  highness,"  said  Louis,  looking  with  frank 
devotion  into  the  shining  eyes  of  the  lady,  "  this 
young  soldier  is  Roubichon  only  to  his  foes,  but  to 
his  friends  Captain  Tontorf,  son  of  the  printer  of 
Middelburg,  not  unknown  to  you,  I  believe.  He  has 
in  silence  and  secret  held  himself  consecrate,  may 
I  make  bold  to  say,  to  your  service  now  these  two 
years  past,  and  by  my  faith  I  believe  he  came  to 
France  less  to  do  the  bidding  of  my  brother  of 
Orange  than  to  seek  such  chance  as  might  betide 
to  lay  his  sword  and  his  service  at  the  feet  of  Mad 
emoiselle  de  Bourbon." 

Charlotte  held  out  her  hand  with  swift,  grateful 
impulse  to  the  young  Zeelander,  who  dropped  on  his 
knee  as  he  touched  it  reverently  with  his  lips. 

"Is  it  possible  that  you  are  the  son  of  Maitre 
Tontorf,"  she  said,  "the  trusted  friend  of  Madame 
Jeanne  d'Albret,  the  fearless  messenger  who  saved 
us  from  the  espionage  of  our  enemies  ?  He  it  was 
who  brought  me  the  book  which  has  led  me  to  the 
feet  of  my  Lord  and  Saviour.  Of  his  noble  martyr- 
death  my  cousin  has  informed  me.  Deeply  have  I 
deplored  it  and  devoutly  in  my  heart  have  I  honored 
the  memory  of  so  good  and  so  brave  a  Christian." 

"  The  son  is  worthy  of  the  father,  Mademoiselle," 
Count  Louis  said  gently  ;  "  and  if  I  were  permitted 
to  speak  for  myself  I  should  say  that  for  both  of  us 
alike  there  is  no  deeper  desire  than  that  you  should 
cammand  us  to  any  service  it  may  ever  be  in  our 
power  to  render." 

In  the  innermost  heart  of  him  Norbert  felt  the 
generous  condescension  of  Louis  in  this  union  of 
their  names.  Not  less  keenly  did  he  perceive  the 
touch  of  an  emotion  far  exceeding  his  wonted 
courtly  gallantry  with  which  these  words  were 


26 1 

spoken.  No  trace  of  jealousy,  however,  clouded 
the  mind  of  the  young  soldier.  The  Abbess  of 
Jouarre  remained  to  him,  in  fact,  as  she  had  ever 
been  in  fancy,  exalted  far  beyond  earthly  passion, 
save  that  of  pure  knightly  devotion. 

Despite  her  monastic  inexperience  the  lady  was 
not  oblivious  to  the  profound  and  scarcely  disguised 
homage  of  the  count. 

With  changing  color,  drooping  eyelids,  and  as  if 
hastening  to  cut  short  an  interview  which  she  feared 
to  continue,  she  murmured  a  few  words  of  grati 
tude  and  farewell,  swept  a  low  courtesy,  and  has 
tened  to  cross  the  green  courtyard  to  her  own  hall. 

The  seven  gentlemen  who  shortly  surrounded 
the  great  round  table  in  the  hall  of  the  guest  house 
and  partook  of  the  daintily  furnished  and  liberal 
fare  which  the  convent  provided,  spent  the  hour  in 
weighty  and  earnest  conference.  The  relations  of 
the  Elector  Palatine  to  the  Huguenot  uprising,  the 
errand  on  which  Count  Louis  and  Norbert  had 
come  to  France,  received  the  first  consideration. 
Later  they  discussed  the  prospects  of  the  Protest 
ant  cause  at  large  and  the  urgent  struggle  in  the 
Netherlands  to  which,  as  the 'admiral  and  his  lieu 
tenants  heard  with  deepest  satisfaction,  the  Prince 
of  Orange  stood  ready  to  commit  himself. 

"  And  now,"  cried  the  valorous  La  Noue  as,  the 
brief  hour  ended,  they  were  about  to  rise  from  the 
table,  "let  us  clasp  hands  together  as  we  stand 
around  this  board  and  drink  a  health  long  and  deep 
to  our  gracious  and  noble  hostess.  Life,  health,  and 
joy  to  the  White  Abbess  of  Jouarre  !  Vive  la  trh 
illustre  dame,  Mademoiselle  Charlotte  de  Bourbon !  " 
At  these  words  all  sprang  to  their  feet. 

"Gentlemen,"  exclaimed  Louis  of  Nassau  with 
kindling  eyes,  "  a  moment  yet  ere  you  drink  the 
pledge  of  the  Chevalier  de  la  Noue  !  The  lady 
whom  we  pledge  is  surrounded  by  peculiar  perils, 
perils  of  which  I  may  not  speak,  but  which  cannot 


262 

fail  in  this  fierce  and  turbulent  time  to  wait  upon 
one  who  is  at  once  the  daughter  of  the  Prince  de 
Montpensier  and  the  close  friend  of  her  majesty  of 
Navarre.  This  venerable  abbey  in  whose  pro 
tection  we  are  now  secure  is  set  in  the  path  of 
gathering  armies  and  hard  by  the  seat  of  the  war 
now  already  on,  this  very  day  openly  declared — 
the  second  civil  war  of  France.  Shall  we  who 
have  seen  her  and  who  revere  the  grace  and  exalted 
goodness  of  the  Lady  of  Jouarre,  enjoy  her  bounty 
and  fare  forth  our  several  ways  leaving  her  un 
protected,  exposed  to  dangers  from  within  and  from 
without  ?  " 

A  response  of  ardent  protest  passed  from  man  to 
man,  and  a  pledge  of  knightly  guardiance  of  the 
lady  was  added  to  the  toast. 

Accordingly  when  the  illustrious  company  pres 
ently  broke  up,  each  man  to  follow  his  own  peril 
ous  and  eager  course,  a  small  bodyguard  of  soldiers 
was  left  at  the  abbey  for  the  protection  of  its  mis 
tress,  under  command  of  Francois  d'Averly,  the 
elder  of  the  Sieurs  de  Minay. 

As  Count  Louis  and  Captain  Tontorf,  setting  out 
alone  on  their  long  return  journey  to  Germany, 
reached  a  turn  in  the  road  which  must  presently 
conceal  from  their  view  the  hoary  pile  of  the  old 
Abbey  of  Jouarre,  the  count  exclaimed  with  a 
humorous  and  yet  rueful  smile  as  he  looked  back 
ward  : 

"  Happy  d'Averly  !  Would  I  could  change  places 
with  him  !  " 


L 


XXV 
THE  CHAMPION  APPEARS 

EAVES  from  the  note-book  of  the  Demoiselle 

de  Mousson  : 


Jonarre,  2  October,  1567:  I  walked  with  my  lady 
in  the  garden  after  prime  this  morning,  and  we 
spoke  of  the  strange  events  of  the  two  days  past. 

We  know  that  the  court  reached  Paris  unharmed, 
meeting  in  sooth  sore  dangers  on  the  way.  The 
king  himself  fought  at  the  head  of  his  own  body 
guard  and  but  narrowly  escaped  the  soldiers  of 
Conde.  My  lady  lets  me  speak  as  I  will,  which  in 
truth  is  full  freely,  of  the  bold  rescue  of  ourselves 
on  the  day  before  Michaelmas,  of  that  long  dark 
night  when  we,  peaceful  nuns  of  Jouarre,  rode 
between  ranks  of  armed  men,  and  were  escorted 
by  unknown  cavaliers  through  those  strange  hours 
till  dawning.  Truly  war  works  sudden  bouleverse- 
ment.  Marvel  was  it  that  wild  and  ill-assorting  our 
condition  as  was  the  whole  adventure,  we  yet  could 
feel  ourselves  as  little  robbed  of  our  dignity  and  re 
spect  as  had  we  been  at  service  in  our  own  chapel. 
Such  was  the  noble  courtesy  and  reverence  which 
encompassed  us.  Surely  these  foreigners  are  most 
chivalrous  and  regardful  gentlemen. 

Jouarre,  10  October,  7567:  I  had  even  in  my  se 
cret  heart  wondered  if  my  lady  might  find  it  hard 
to  forget  the  good  graces  and  adoring  glances  of 
the  very  worshipful  Count  Louis  of  Nassau,  for  I 
think  not,  save  my  lord  of  Teligny,  has  she  ever 
chanced  to  meet  a  young  knight  of  that  strain.  She 

263 


264 

is  unwontedly  silent  and  thoughtful.  The  rather 
doubtless  have  I  held  this  fancy  that  I  have  striven 
in  vain  myself,  even  when  I  was  at  my  devotions,  to 
bar  wholly  from  my  sense  the  figure  of  the  young 
captain  from  Holland  who  rode  by  my  side  from 
La  Ferte,  and  who  surely  is  as  goodly  a  man  as  the 
count  himself,  and  a  full  half  head  taller,  and  of  as 
keen  a  wit. 

But  to-day  my  lady  showed  me  that  it  was  not 
on  the  Count  of  Nassau  she  was  musing,  since  his 
unfeigned  devotion,  I  fancy  now,  she  found  a  thought 
too  open,  but  rather  of  that  which  had  made  the 
substance  of  their  talk  together  as  they  rode  hither 
side  by  side.  This  was,  in  brief,  that  the  Catholic 
Prince  of  Orange,  brother  of  the  young  count,  and 
a  most  puissant  and  noble  lord,  as  had  been  long 
ago  made  known  to  Mademoiselle  by  Madame 
Jeanne  d'Albret,  has  within  short  time  given  over 
the  ancient  religion.  I  hardly  know  why  this  fact, 
which  indeed  must  have  its  influence  upon  all  the 
world  to-day,  should  have  so  great  a  place  in  my 
lady's  meditation,  unless  it  be  that  she  is  fain  her 
self  to  take  the  self-same  step. 

And  yet,  how  can  she  ?  It  is  my  belief  that  if 
she  were  to  declare  herself  of  the  new  religion,  the 
Due,  her  father,  would  gladly  take  her  life  with  his 
own  hand,  to  such  a  pitch  of  fury  has  his  zeal  risen 
since  the  late  troubles.  The  Huguenots  call  him 
"the  Savage  Butcher,"  and  I  have  noted  that  my 
lady  turns  pale  when  tidings  come  of  the  part  he 
plays  in  this  terrible  contest.  But  for  all  this,  she 
has  long  converse  with  the  Sieur  de  Minay,  who 
bears  himself  toward  her  right  fatherly,  and  who  is 
a  most  devout,  god-fearing  man.  Moreover,  she 
reads  the  book  brought  her  by  Maitre  Tontorf  con 
tinually,  and  spends  many  hours  daily  in  prayer, 
wherein  she  uses  no  rosary  nor  missal,  and  no  name 
of  saint  or  Virgin.  I  know  not  what  is  before  us, 
but  for  myself,  I  would  in  my  own  heart  that  I  could 


265 

even  to-morrow  quit  this  convent  and  declare  myself 
what  I  am  in  truth,  albeit  no  person  save  my  lady 
dreams  it,  a  Huguenot. 

Jouarre,  3  November,  1567:  To-day,  as  we  sat 
within  the  hall,  the  rain  falling  in  torrents,  and  the 
clouds  so  heavy  that  we  were  forced  to  sit  close 
within  the  niche  of  the  window  to  gain  aught  of 
light  for  our  tapestry  work,  while  we  so  sat, 
Jeannette  only  with  us,  my  lady  said,  with  her 
arch  smile  : 

"  I  noted,  Jeanne,  that  you  had  much  converse 
with  the  young  Middelburger,  Captain  Tontorf,  as 
we  journeyed  from  La  Ferte,  two  weeks  since.  I 
have  been  minded,  having  your  spiritual  good  to 
care  for  and  oversee,  to  inquire  as  to  the  substance 
of  your  talking." 

Like  the  silly  thing  I  am,  the  blood  rushed  to  my 
cheeks,  and  not  for  my  life  could  I  then  have  lifted 
mine  eyes  from  the  canvas  and  met  my  lady's 
look. 

"I  mind  not  now  so  particularly,  Mademoiselle," 
I  made  haste  to  answer ;  "  one  can  scarce  keep  such 
trifling  things  in  mind  so  long." 

May  I  be  forgiven,  since  do  my  best  to  have  it 
otherwise,  not  one  word  which  that  same  Roubi- 
chon-Tontorf  spoke  have  I  been  able  to  forget ! 
So  then,  making  haste  to  salve  my  conscience,  I 
added  thereto  : 

"We  spoke,  if  I  remember,  among  other  things, 
of  his  grace,  the  Prince  of  Orange,  brother  to  the 
Count  of  Nassau,  for  it  seems  that  to  him  this  same 
young  officer  has  a  devotion  which  one  might  call 
religious.  It  is  really  naught  less  than  that." 

My  lady  made  upon  this  no  reply  ;  but  I  felt  that 
she  wished  me  to  pursue  the  subject  further. 

"To  the  thinking  of  this  Dutch  gentleman,"  I 
proceeded,  "in  comparison  the  Admiral  of  France 
is  not  so  grand  a  hero,  the  Count  of  Nassau  so  gal- 


266 

lant  a  gentleman,  nor  any  prince  to  be  found  be 
sides  him  worthy  the  name.  'There  is  but  one 
prince  for  me  ! '  so  he  said  downright  stoutly." 

"It  is  even  so  that  his  brother  discourses,"  re 
turned  my  lady  quite  soberly.  "  The  Protestants 
of  the  Low  Countries  are  fortunate  to  have  at  last 
won  so  great  a  champion."  And  with  that  she  be 
came  silent. 

I  can  see  clearly  how  slight  a  hold,  after  all,  the 
dashing  and  generous  count  has  taken  upon  my 
lady's  thoughts.  She  passes  him  whom  she  has 
seen  and  is  fain  to  dwell  on  an  unseen  figure, 
sterner,  graver,  yet  more  majestic,  which  he  him 
self  drew  for  her. 

What  can  the  Prince  of  Orange  be  in  actual  pres 
ence  since  the  bare  mention  of  him  on  the  lips  of 
his  friends  can  so  control  the  pure  and  virgin  heart 
of  such  a  one  as  my  lady  ? 

Jouarre,  12  November,  1567:  There  has  been  a 
great  battle  outside  the  walls  of  Paris  at  St.  Denis. 
The  wounded  of  the  besieging  army  of  Conde  have 
even  been  brought  as  far  as  Jouarre,  and  we  have 
a  new  charge  of  nursing. 

The  constable,  my  lord  of  Montmorency,  alas,  is 
dead,  killed  by  one  Stewart,  from  private  malice. 

Both  sides  claim  victory,  but  both  have  grievous 
losses.  Fifty  towns  have  now  declared  for  the  new 
religion,  notably  La  Rochelle.  I  would  that  one 
poor  demoiselle  might  follow  suit. 

Men  speak  freely,  we  are  told  by  the  Sieur  de 
Minay,  who,  with  his  little  band  of  soldiers,  keeps 
safe  watch  over  us,  of  the  dire  and  black  treason 
of  the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine.  He  has,  it  is  now 
clear,  in  very  deed  attempted  to  betray  the  crown 
of  France  to  Philip  of  Spain  as  having  a  claim 
thereto  through  his  wife,  Isabella  of  Valois.  I 
could  almost  wish  he  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
the  populace  of  Meaux  last  Michaelmas.  The  whole 


267 

land  is  in  tumult.  Nowhere  is  safety,  and  the 
very  foundations  tremble.  It  is  a  marvel  to  all 
that  the  queen  mother  still  suffers  the  cardinal  to 
have  voice  in  her  counsels. 

Jonarre,  January,  1568:  Word  has  reached  us 
that  the  son  of  the  Elector  Palatine,  John  Casi- 
mir,  has  at  last  entered  Lorraine  with  the  promised 
German  reiters,  and  that  the  Huguenots,  with  the 
admiral  and  Conde,  have  met  them.  This  proves 
that  the  mission  of  the  Count  of  Nassau  and  Cap 
tain  Tontorf  last  September  was  not  in  vain,  for 
which  even  neutral  nuns  like  ourselves  may  rejoice 
in  our  secret  hearts. 

Joiiarre,  March,  1568:  We  have  had  a  visit 
from  the  Chevalier  de  la  Noue,  who  has  brought 
us  the  welcome  news  that  the  war,  so  fierce  and 
bitter,  although  so  brief,  is  at  an  end,  an  edict  of 
peace  having  been  signed  at  Longjumeau  on  the 
twenty-third.  La  Noue  calls  it  a  limping  and  rick 
ety  and  wicked  little  peace,  and  prophesies  that  it 
will  not  last  long  and  bodes  dubious  good  to  the 
Huguenots.  Coligny,  who  was  very  loth  to  take 
up  arms,  and  who  had  little  relish  for  "  the  affair  of 
Meaux,"  which  the  king  and  the  queen-mother  still 
bitterly  resent,  is  more  loth  now  to  lay  them  down. 
The  Royalists,  he  says,  have  too  often  been  proved 
guilty  of  bad  faith  that  they  should  be  trusted  now 
with  no  security.  However,  Conde  is  as  eager 
now  for  peace  as  he  was  erstwhile  for  war,  and 
has  prevailed. 

La  Noue  had  also  news  for  us  from  Brussels, 
where  the  Prince  of  Orange  has  been  in  January 
summoned  by  the  Duke  of  Alva  to  appear  before 
the  Council  of  Troubles  in  three  fortnights,  as  chief 
author  and  promoter  of  rebellion  in  the  Low  Coun 
tries.  He  was  accused  of  being  at  the  root  of  every 
movement  against  the  Spanish  government.  If  he 


268 

refuse  to  appear,  he  is  condemned  to  perpetual 
banishment  and  his  vast  estates  are  confiscated. 
Count  Louis  is  also  summoned  with  others  to  come 
before  this  terrible  tribunal  on  the  charge  of  con* 
spiracy. 

I  asked  the  chevalier  if  the  Prince  of  Orange 
would  obey  the  summons,  at  which  he  laughed 
heartily,  and  asked  me  if  men  were  wont  to  walk 
into  a  den  of  ravening  wolves  with  their  eyes  open. 
My  lady  spake  not  at  all,  but  listened  with  won 
drous  attentiveness,  and  La  Noue,  continuing,  told 
that  the  prince  has  thrown  the  summons  back  right 
boldly  in  Alva's  face  and  claims  his  right  as  a  Mag 
nate  of  the  empire  to  be  judged  by  the  emperor, 
the  electors,  and  other  chiefs. 

"The  prince  has,  indeed,"  concluded  the  cheva 
lier,  "  thrown  down  the  gauntlet  of  war  to  the  death, 
for  although  he  claims  that  it  is  not  the  king  who 
has  proceeded  against  himself,  but  men  who  ill-serve 
his  majesty,  he  says  boldly  that  he  is,  for  frivolous 
and  false  accusations,  contrary  to  all  right  law  and 
usage,  not  only  despoiled  of  his  property,  but  insulted 
in  his  honor  and  robbed  of  his  child,  both  dearer  than 
life." 

This  child,  La  Noue  made  known  to  us  to  be  a 
mere  lad,  the  eldest  son  of  the  prince,  who  has  been 
abducted  from  the  college  of  Savoy  at  Louvain,  and 
taken  away  to  Spain. 

"  What  will  come  of  such  bold  action  as  this  ?  " 
asked  Mademoiselle. 

"War,  your  highness,"  was  La  Noue's  answer, 
"  a  war  of  which  I  can  already  see  the  beginning 
but  cannot  see  the  end.  None  the  less  it  was  a 
brave  man's  deed." 

"  It  is.  however,  a  terrible  thing,"  said  my  lady, 
"to  take  upon  one's  self  the  responsibility  of  such 
a  war." 

"That  indeed  is  it,  madame,"  La  Noue  said 
very  gravely  ;  "but  the  responsibility  is  not  upon 


269 

the  Prince  of  Orange,  but  upon  the  Holy  Office 
which  a  month  since  condemned  all  the  inhabitants 
of  the  Netherlands  to  death  as  heretics,  save  a  few 
persons  especially  named." 

"Oh,  monsieur,"  cried  my  lady,  "that  is  al 
most  beyond  belief!  " 

"  Nevertheless  it  is  true.  The  Prince  of  Orange, 
believe  me,  is  not  moving  over-hastily.  Such  is 
not  his  habit." 

"What  can  be  the  results  to  the  prince  himself 
of  such  a  war  ?  "  asked  Mademoiselle. 

"  If  it  succeed  his  renown  will  be  most  glorious, 
for  he  will  have  broken  the  greatest  military  power 
and  the  most  intolerable  tyranny  in  Christendom. 
If  he  fail  he  will  be  the  loneliest  man  in  Europe. 
But  one  thing  can  be  assured  :  no  defeat,  no  dis 
couragement,  no  disaster  will  ever  quench  his  spirit 
nor  break  his  purpose.  Death  only  will  be  the 
end.  He  possesses  a  power  of  silent  endurance 
and  a  most  unconquerable  persistency  of  spirit  when 
once  he  is  aroused.  Furthermore,  there  is  not  in 
any  court  of  Europe  a  more  masterly  diplomatist. 
I  dare  to  prophesy  that  as  long  as  William  of  Nassau 
lives  the  Netherlands  will  never  yield  to  the  tyranny 
of  Spain.  It  is  my  own  desire,  when  once  peace  is 
established  firmly  in  France,  to  go  to  the  Nether 
lands  and  place  myself  and  as  many  men  as  I  can 
gather  at  the  prince's  disposal.  There  is  no  man 
living,  after  Coligny,  under  whom  I  would  liever 
fight,  and  never  on  the  face  of  the  earth  was  there 
a  juster  or  a  holier  cause." 

My  lady  did  not  speak,  but  she  had  no  need  to. 
Her  eyes  spake  for  her. 

Jouarre,  August,  1568:  From  letters  of  Captain 
Tontorf  to  the  Sieur  de  Minay  we  know  something 
of  the  sorrowful  course  of  affairs  thus  far  in  the 
Netherlands.  In  May,  in  certain  watery  pastures 
near  a  monastery  called  Heiliger-Lee,  was  fought 


270 

the  first  battle,  audacious  and  over-early,  but  bril 
liant  and  successful.  Count  Louis  led  the  patriot 
forces  with  such  boldness  and  wild  valor  that  the 
Spaniards  were  utterly  routed.  But  his  young 
brother,  Adolf  of  Nassau,  was  left  dead  on  the  field. 

In  his  fury  Alva  then  marched  in  person  into 
Groningen  at  the  head  of  a  strong  and  disciplined 
army,  having  taken  the  precaution  ere  he  left 
Brussels  to  put  to  death  eighteen  prisoners  of  dis 
tinction,  among  them  Count  Lamoral  of  Egmont 
and  Count  Horn,  to  the  horror  of  all  the  world.  He 
met  the  "  rebels  "  under  Count  Louis  in  Friesland, 
drove  them  by  superior  numbers  into  a  kind  of 
cul-de-sac  formed  by  the  river  Ems,  and  there,  after 
brave  but  futile  resistance,  the  count  serving  his 
cannon  with  his  own  hand,  he  massacred  the  entire 
army  in  his  most  bloody  and  ruthless  manner. 
Count  Louis  escaped  with  Captain  Tontorf  only  by 
swimming  the  Ems  naked  and  fleeing  for  his  life 
back  to  Germany. 

"  It  was,"  wrote  Captain  Tontorf,  "most  griev 
ous  and  heart-breaking  tidings  which  we  had  to 
carry  to  the  household  at  Dillenburg  Castle.  The 
first  Nassau  to  shed  his  blood  for  the  cause  had 
fallen  at  Heiliger-Lee,  fighting  in  the  front  of  battle, 
the  brave  and  modest  Count  Adolf.  Heavily  fell 
the  blow  upon  his  true-hearted  mother,  the  Countess 
Juliana,  and  upon  the  noble  band  of  brothers  and 
sisters.  To  this  was  added  for  the  prince,  the  mock 
ing  glory  of  a  barren  victory  and  the  gloom  of  a 
crushing  and  most  bloody  defeat.  The  hearts  of 
those  who  might  otherwise  have  helped  us  are  now 
chilled  and  the  difficulties  of  levying  fresh  troops 
mightily  increased.  But,  albeit  the  rash  opening 
of  the  campaign  in  Groningen  by  Count  Louis  was 
against  the  will  and  judgment  of  the  prince,  he 
uttered  no  reproach.  '  With  God's  help  I  have  de 
termined  to  push  ahead1  was  his  calm  comment  on 
the  whole  deplorable  issue. 


271 

"On  that  very  day,"  went  on  the  letter,  "in 
which  the  prince  wrote  those  words,  July  31,  he 
made  a  declaration  to  all  Europe,  and  especially 
to  the  Netherlands,  which  is  so  calm  and  full  a 
setting  forth  of  his  position  as  he  now  enters  the 
lists  to  do  battle  with  the  most  powerful  monarch 
in  the  world  that  I  shall  send  you  herewith  a  copy 
of  it.  It  may  be,  the  ladies  of  Jouarre  will  also  find 
interest  in  the  reading." 

Here  follows  this  proclamation,  which,  beyond 
doubt,  the  ladies  of  Jouarre  have -read  with  eager 
interest,  their  hearts  thrilled  by  its  steadfast,  serene 
courage  and  amazed  by  its  marvelous  mingling  of 
sternness  with  conciliation. 

My  lady  says  it  is  a  masterpiece  of  diplomacy  as 
well  as  of  boldness,  and  points  out  that  the  prince 
makes  war  against  the  king's  government  in  the 
king's  name,  for  to  the  manifesto  he  had  affixed  his 
motto  :  "Pro  lege,  grege,  rege,"  for  law,  people,  and 
king. 

"  We,  by  the  grace  of  God  Prince  of  Orange,  salute 
all  faithful  subjects  of  His  Majesty :  To  few  people 
is  it  unknown  that  the  Spaniards  have  for  a  long  time 
sought  to  govern  the  land  according  to  their  pleasure. 
Abusing  His  Majesty's  goodness,  they  have  persuaded 
him  to  decree  the  introduction  of  the  Inquisition  into 
the  Netherlands.  They  well  understand  that  in  case 
the  Netherlander^  could  be  made  to  tolerate  its  exercise 
they  would  lose  all  protection  to  their  liberty.  .  .  We 
had  hoped  that  His  Majesty,  taking  the  matter  to 
heart,  would  have  spared  his  hereditary  provinces 
from  such  titter  ruin,  tye  have  found  our  hopes 
futile.  We  are  unable,  by  reason  of  our  loyal  serv 
ice  to  His  Majesty  and  of  our  true  compassion  for 
the  faithful  lieges,  to  look  with  tranquillity  any  longer 
at  such  murders,  robberies,  outrages,  and  agony. 
We  are,  moreover,  certain  that  His  Majesty  has 
been  badly  informed  upon  Netherland  matters.  We 


2/2 

take  up  arms,  therefore,  to  oppose  the  violent  tyr 
anny  of  the  Spaniards,  by  the  help  of  the  merciful 
God,  who  is  the  enemy  of  all  bloodthirstiness.  Cheer 
fully  inclined  to  wager  our  life  and  all  our  worldly 
wealth  on  the  cause,  we  have  now,  God  be  thanked, 
an  excellent  army  of  cavalry ,  infantry,  and  artillery, 
raised  all  at  our  own  expense.  We  summon  all  loyal 
subjects  of  the  Netherlands  to  come  and  help  us. 
Let  them  take  to  heart  the  uttermost  need  of  the  coun 
try,  the  danger  of  perpetual  slavery  for  themselves  and 
their  children,  and  of  the  entire  overthrow  of  evan 
gelical  religion.  Only  when  Alva's  bloodthirstiness 
shall  have  been  at  last  overpowered  can  the  provinces 
hope  to  recover  their  pure  administration  of  justice  and 

a  prosperous  condition  for  their  commonwealth." 

k 

Together  and  in  secret  we  read  the  whole  letter 
of  Captain  Tontorf,  which  was  writ  from  Dillen- 
burg  Castle  ;  the  proclamation  we  read  more  than 
once,  and  my  lady,  whose  eyes  were  dim,  said  so 
low  that  I  scarce  caught  the  words,  "  May  I  Jive  to 
see  one  day  the  man  who  had  the  heart  to  write 
those  words  !  " 

Jouarre,  October,  1568:  Truly  the  times  wax 
worse  and  worse  and  these  days  are  of  the  darkest. 

In  Flanders  the  great  army  of  the  Prince  of 
Orange,  which  he  had  sold  his  plate  and  jewels  to 
levy  and  equip,  has  been  utterly  scattered  by  the 
tactics  of  Alva,  the  easier  an  achievement  since 
they  were  but  mercenary  soldiers  fighting  for  pay 
and  plunder.  Never  once  would  Alva  give  battle 
to  the  prince,  but  wore  his  army  out  with  hanging 
upon  their  skirts,  destroying  all  their  means  for 
obtaining  food,  harassing  them  with  matchless  and 
wily  cunning,  forcing  them  to  change  their  en 
campment  twenty-nine  times  in  as  many  days, 
until  at  last,  as  the  crafty  duke  foresaw,  the  troops 
became  maddened  and  mutinous.  The  prince  is 


273 

even  now  re-crossing  the  Meuse,  as  we  hear  by  my 
lord  of  Teligny,  who  hath  been  more  than  once  of 
late  at  Jouarre  on  his  way  to  or  from  the  court, 
with  which  he  has  had  much  conference.  With 
what  feelings  must  the  prince  return  from  a  cam 
paign  so  valiantly  undertaken  !  Bitterest  of  all 
must  it  be,  says  Teligny,  that  the  Netherland  folk 
themselves  stirred  not  hand  nor  voice  to  meet  the 
prince  at  his  coming.  Not  one  town  or  city  opened 
its  gates  to  him,  even  to  within  a  few  leagues  of 
Brussels  itself,  where  he  has  been  ever  the  idol  of 
the  people.  The  people  are  stupefied,  it  needs  must 
be,  by  the  barbarous  cruelties  of  Alva,  until  every 
last  drop  of  hope  and  courage  is  frozen  within  them. 

I  should  think  all  hope  for  the  Netherlands  gone 
were  it  not  for  what  the  Chevalier  de  la  Noue  de 
clared  to  my  lady  concerning  the  unconquerable 
nature  of  the  Prince  of  Orange.  Surely  he  is 
sharply  tested  now,  for  his  great  army  is  wasted 
with  no  gain  and  his  ill  success  has  turned  his 
warmest  friends  cold,  except  among  the  poor  and 
oppressed.  Where  can  he  now  turn  ?  Dukes, 
electors,  and  princes  fall  away  from  him  like  water. 
Well  did  La  Noue  prophesy  that  if  he  failed  the 
prince  would  be  the  loneliest  man  in  Europe. 

So  much  for  the  cause  in  Flanders.  I  say  the 
cause,  for  although  it  must  not  be  dreamed  here  in 
Jouarre,  there  is  no  longer  disguise  nor  concealment 
between  my  lady  and  Jeannette  and  myself.  Our 
cause  is  the  cause  of  the  Religion. 

For  France  the  case  is  even  worse,  if  worse  can 
be.  Coligny  and  the  Prince  of  Orange  have  en 
tered  not  long  since  into  a  mutual  compact  and 
more  than  ever  we  realize  that  the  cause  is  one. 

Alas,  we  are  ourselves  plunged  again  in  civil 
war,  for  the  peace  of  Longjumeau  has  proved  in 
deed  but  a  "  wicked  and  rickety  little  peace,"  see 
ing  that  in  these  six  short  months  ten  thousand 
Huguenots  have  been  treacherously  murdered. 


274 

Hardly  can  war  be  worse,  as  the  Prince  of  Conde 
declared  to  the  queen-mother.  He  has  implored 
her  to  dismiss  from  her  counsels  the  Cardinal  of 
Lorraine,  the  infamous  plotter  against  both  crown 
and  people.  The  Emperor  Maximilian  has  well  said 
that  "all  the  wars  and  all  the  dissensions  that  are 
to-day  rife  among  Christians,  have  originated  from 
two  cardinals,  Granvelle  and  Lorraine." 

The  Guisards  now  have  their  own  way  at  court, 
and  the  first  great  deed  with  which  they  sought 
to  usher  in  their  rule  was  nothing  less  than  a 
desperate  attempt  to  seize  the  persons  of  Coligny, 
Conde,  and  the  Queen  of  Navarre,  last  month.  All 
three  barely  escaped,  fleeing  to  La  Rochelle,  now 
the  Huguenot  refuge. 

Only  war  could  follow  an  event  like  this,  and 
war  is  now  upon  us. 

Our  own  private  matters  have  suffered  shock 
with  all  the  rest.  Since  my  lady  has  little  by  little, 
under  the  teaching  of  the  Sieur  de  Minay  and  other 
influences,  come  into  full  sympathy  with  the  Hu 
guenot  cause,  she  finds  it  ever  more  difficult  to  ful 
fill  the  office  of  superieure  with  whole  heart  and 
conscience.  The  Queen  of  Navarre  learning  of  her 
altered  mind,  a  short  while  since,  offered  Mademoi 
selle  and  her  two  Jeannes  a  haven  and  a  home  in 
Beam  could  she  go  so  far  as  to  break  wholly 
with  the  Catholic  faith.  I  think  not  that  my  lady 
fully  intended  to  put  this  generous  purpose  to  the 
test,  since  Monseigneur  de  Montpensier  might  have 
made  terrible  reprisals  upon  her  majesty.  Never 
theless,  we  had  some  consideration  of  disguises  and 
of  remaining,  by  the  aid  of  the  queen,  for  months 
in  strictest  hiding  in  the  Pyrenees.  All  this  is  now 
at  an  end  since  Madame  d'Albret  has  herself  be 
come  a  wanderer. 

The  three  great  spirits  of  Huguenoterie,  whom 
Alva's  and  Philip's  and  the  Guises'  evil  wills  have 
so  fiercely  desired  to  destroy,  are  for  a  little  time 


275 

all  together  within  the  protecting  walls  of  La  Ro- 
chelle.  It  is  said  that  Madame  d'Albret,  by  the 
vigor  and  penetration  of  her  intelligence,  never  so 
nobly  displayed  as  now,  animates  all  the  councils 
of  war,  and  is  the  very  soul  of  the  Huguenot  body. 
The  Chevalier  de  la  Noue  and  young  Teligny  are 
high  in  command.  The  flower  of  the  nobility  is 
flocking  to  Conde's  army.  There  has  been  a  gen 
eral  call  to  arms. 


XXVI 

A  DEAD  MAN 

ON   a   dismal    February  evening,  on   the   road 
leading  into  the  city  of   Cologne  from  the 
south,  through  stinging  sleet  and  searching 
wind  there  rode  two  men. 

The  elder  of  these,  a  man  of  thirty-five  years, 
wore  a  padded  worsted  doublet,  wide  grogram  trou 
sers,  and  over  all  a  long  and  well-worn  surtout. 
Upon  his  head  was  a  broad-brimmed  hat  drawn 
over  the  forehead  and  concealing  the  face.  His 
companion  was  young  and  soldierly,  and  dressed 
in  an  equally  plain  and  nondescript  fashion. 

Shortly  after  entering  the  city  gate  the  two  men 
parted,  evidently  by  agreement.  The  younger 
turned  his  horse's  head  in  the  direction  of  the 
Domhof,  and  using  his  spurs  was  soon  out  of  sight. 
The  elder,  following  for  a  space  the  street  by  which 
he  had  entered  the  city,  presently  turned  aside  into 
a  narrower  one  and  drew  rein  before  a  low-roofed 
inn  of  the  humbler  sort,  above  the  door  of  which 
hung  the  sign,  Zum  Hirsch,  surmounted  by  a  rude 
wooden  figure  of  a  stag,  painted  red. 

Giving  his  horse  to  an  hostler  who  came  out  from 
the  stables,  the  gentleman  entered  the  inn  in  a 
manner  calculated  to  attract  as  little  attention  as 
might  be  and  asked  for  the  landlord. 

The  host  of  the  Hirsch  soon  appeared,  a  heavily 
built  man  with  coarse,  mottled  face  and  bushy  eye 
brows,  under  which  looked  out  a  pair  of  very  shrewd 
and  calculating  greenish-gray  eyes. 

"  Can  I  have  a  room,  mein  Herr  ?  "  asked  the 
stranger  civilly. 
276 


277 

"For  the  night?" 

"  Perhaps  not  for  the  night.  I  have  yet  to  hear 
from  my  clerk  whether  he  has  found  accommoda 
tion  elsewhere.  I  should  like  a  private  room,  how 
ever,  at  once." 

"Oh,  yes;  oh,  yes,"  said  the  landlord,  rubbing 
his  hands  with  great  show  of  cordiality,  but 
glancing  sharply  under  the  broad  and  drooping  hat 
brim  at  the  stranger's  face.  "  A  room,  oh,  gewiss, 
a  room.  That  is  easy.  And  what  is  the  gentle 
man's  name  ?  " 

"  George  Certain." 

"  And  the  calling  of  mein  Herr  ?  Our  regulations 
are  of  necessity  so  strict  in  these  wild  times." 

"Wine  merchant  from  Rudesheim,  traveling  on- 
business  with  my  confidential  man." 

"Whose  name  is ?  " 

"Roubichon." 

"  Thanks,  mein  Herr,"  and  the  host  bowed  obse 
quiously.  "You  will  pardon  if  I  seem  over-inquis 
itive.  I  am  obliged  at  the  present  time  to  take 
these  precautions  even  with  the  most  exalted  Herr- 
schaften." 

The  stranger  cut  short  the  man's  protests,  being 
apparently  in  some  haste  to  reach  the  retirement 
of  his  room.  He  was  now  conducted  up  a  steep 
flight  of  stairs,  at  the  top  of  which  the  door  was 
thrown  open  into  a  low,  gloomy,  garret-like  apart 
ment  directly  under  the  rafters,  with  a  single  win 
dow  overlooking  the  courtyard  where  heaps  of 
manure  were  melting  into  the  sodden  snow  and  a 
foul,  dank  steam  was  rising. 

The  stranger  looked  about  the  fast-darkening 
room  for  a  single  instant  with  a  measuring  glance. 
It  contained  two  narrow  beds,  as  many  chairs,  a 
light-stand,  and  a  plain  deal  table.  He  stepped  to 
this  table  and  tested  it  with  a  movement  of  his 
hand  to  see  if  it  stood  firm. 

"Yes,"  he   said,   "I  can  write  on  this.     The 


278 

room  is  well  enough.  Thank  you,  mein  Herr. 
Send  me  hither  presently,  if  you  please,  such  meat 
and  drink  as  you  may  have  in  readiness,  and  two 
or  three  candles. 

While  he  spoke  the  stranger  was  taking  from  a 
deep  pocket  of  his  coat  a  traveler's  ink-horn,  sev 
eral  quills,  and  a  thick  leather  letter-case,  which  he 
laid  on  the  table. 

The  host  who  saw  himself  dismissed  had  noted 
the  extreme  beauty  and  fineness  of  the  hands  of 
his  guest,  and  as  he  left  the  room  to  do  his  bidding 
he  said  to  himself : 

"  A  marvelous  fine  gentleman  for  a  wine  mer 
chant,  for  all  his  shabby  dress  and  his  small  require 
ments.  There  is  something  more  to  this  than  ap 
pears.  Men  of  that  ilk  frequent  not  hostelries  of 
this  quality  unless  they  have  reasons  for  keeping 
out  of  sight.  We  shall  keep  our  eyes  upon  you, 
fair  sir,  and  perchance  come  nearer  to  discerning 
your  title  and  degree  than  will  be  welcome  to  you." 

Meanwhile  the  younger  man  had  galloped  as  fast 
as  his  tired  horse  could  go  through  the  Domhof  and 
on  down  the  Hochstrasse,  alighting  before  a  large 
house  of  comfortable  but  by  no  means  pretentious 
description.  A  general  air  of  neglect  and  indiffer 
ent  oversight  pervaded  the  whole  establishment, 
and  it  was  with  some  little  difficulty  that  the  young 
man  succeeded  in  calling  up  a  lackey  to  take  his 
horse  and  another  to  conduct  him  to  the  house 
steward. 

To  the  last  functionary,  a  Netherlander  named 
Hauff,  he  made  the  statement  that  he  was  Ton- 
torf,  a  secretary  of  his  highness  the  Prince  of 
Orange,  and  desired  to  speak  with  the  wife  of  that 
gentleman  immediately  upon  pressing  and  private 
business. 

The  steward  looked  at  Tontorf  for  a  moment 
with  scarcely  veiled  insolence. 

"  Her  highness  is  somewhat  indisposed  this  even- 


279 

ing  and  has  remained  in  her  room.  You  might  come 
in  the  morning,  Master  Tontorf." 

Norbert  bit  his  lip  but  restrained  his  temper. 

"My  master's  business  can  hardly  wait,"  he 
said  briefly.  "You  will,  I  am  sure,  do  me  the 
favor  of  announcing  me  to  her  highness." 

"  You  can  follow  the  page  upstairs,  if  you  please," 
the  steward  responded,  calling  a  lad  in  shabby  liv 
ery,  who  had  been  peering  at  Norbert  from  a  door 
throughout  the  interview. 

"  Here,  Hans,  run  up  in  advance  of  this  gentle 
man  and  see  if  her  highness  has  a  mind  to  receive 
him." 

Norbert  followed  the  lad  up  the  main  staircase  of 
the  house  which  belonged  to  John  Molen,  the  prince's 
treasurer,  and  through  a  wide  hall  to  an  open  door. 
Here  Norbert  stood,  forced  to  overhear  the  dialogue 
which  ensued  between  the  page  and  the  Princess 
of  Orange,  whose  discordant  voice  he  recognized 
with  peculiar  disrelish.  A  moment  later  he  was 
bidden  into  her  presence. 

Anne  of  Saxony  was  reclining  on  a  broad  divan 
in  a  confused  medley  of  bright-colored  draperies 
and  cushions  in  the  midst  of  a  luxuriously  ap 
pointed  but  untidy  bedchamber.  A  table  held  a 
handsome  service  for  a  supper  for  two  persons.  A 
lamp  burned  on  an  escritoire  beside  the  divan  and 
a  fire  blazed  on  the  hearth. 

Norbert  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  princess  had 
changed  markedly  since  her  departure  from  Dillen- 
burg.  She  had  grown  very  fat,  and  the  gross  and 
sensual  character  of  her  face  was  highly  augmented  ; 
but  her  eyes  were  still  of  burning  brightness  and 
her  manner  no  less  imperative  than  ever. 

"  Oh,  it  is  you,  sir,"  she  said  abruptly,  not  mov 
ing  from  her  easy  attitude.  "  I  remember  you  per 
fectly.  I  saw  you  last  at  the  chateau  of  the  Nas- 
saus.  What  have  you  come  here  for  ?  " 

"  To  bring  a  message  from  his  excellency,  ma- 


280 

dame.  Can  I  have  the  honor  to  speak  with  you  in 
private  ?  " 

"We  are  alone,"  said  Anne  of  Saxony  care 
lessly.  "  You  can  close  the  door  behind  you,  an' 
you  will." 

Having  done  so  Norbert  stepped  back  to  his  posi 
tion  near  the  divan,  and  said  in  a  low  voice  : 

"The  prince,  madame,  is  even  now  in  Cologne. 
Needless  is  it  to  say  that  his  presence  must  not  be 
known.  He  has  sent  me  hither  while  he  awaits 
my  return  in  a  common  inn  where  he  may  hope  to 
avoid  recognition,  to  inquire  whether  your  house 
hold  at  the  moment  is  such  that  it  will  not  embar 
rass  your  highness  nor  imperil  himself  if  he  come 
here  for  twenty-four  hours.  He  most  earnestly  de 
sires  that  he  may  have  speech  with  you  before  he 
sets  out  for  France." 

The  countenance  of  the  princess  had  grown 
steadily  harder  and  more  bitterly  repellent  as 
Norbert  went  on. 

"For  what  does  he  desire  speech  with  me?" 
she  cried  excitedly.  "  I  can  guess.  He  wishes  to 
persuade  me  to  go  back  to  his  relations  in  that  bar 
barous  prison  of  Dillenburg.  No,  he  need  not  come 
here  for  that,  Master  Tontorf.  You  can  tell  him  as 
well  as  I  and  with  less  bitterness,  that  I  will  never, 
never  as  long  as  I  live,  go  back  into  that  wretched 
wilderness,"  and  she  proceeded  to  rave  against  the 
miseries  and  distresses  of  life  where  in  the  whole 
Westerwald  there  was  not  even  a  barber-surgeon  to 
be  found  !  where  she  could  not  even  get  a  glass  of 
wine  often  when  she  wished  it !  and  where  there 
was  no  one  whom  she  found  in  the  least  amusing 
to  break  the  tedium  of  the  long,  wearisome  days  ! 

"What  do  the  Nassau  ladies  do?"  she  cried. 
"  Sit  and  look  out  of  window  to  watch  for  their  lords 
and  run  to  meet  them  like  dogs  at  their  coming  ! 
Or  else  they  trot  about  the  castle  with  their  eternal 
burgerliche  hausfrau  cares,  and  visit  the  dark,  dirty 


281 

cottages  of  that  horrid  little  village,  and  for  the  rest 
let  themselves  be  preached  to  and  prayed  at  night 
and  morning  till  I  should  think  they  would  die  of 
piety  !  And  because  I,  the  daughter  of  the  great 
Maurice  of  Saxony,  accustomed  to  the  state  and 
magnificence  of  the  court  of  Dresden,  could  not 
condescend  to  do  as  they  did,  they  would  leave  me 
to  sit  alone  often  a  day  at  a  time  till  I  thought  my 
head  would  break  of  ennui.  And  now  it  will  be 
worse  than  ever,  since  they  are  in  mourning  for 
Adolf.  He  was  a  pretty  junker,  the  best  of  the  lot. 
I  wish  it  had  been  Louis,  since  one  must  fall  at 
Heiliger-Lee.  Him  I  never  could  abide  !  " 

"Madame,"  said  Norbert  quietly,  when  at  last 
the  princess  paused  for  breath,  "  I  think  it  is  not 
altogether  in  the  matter  of  your  return  to  Dillen- 
burg  that  the  prince  desired  to  confer  with  you. 
He  is,  as  you  must  be  well  informed,  immersed  in 
difficulties,  and  needs  such  comfort  and  friendly  in 
terest  as  a  man  may  look  for  from  his  wife." 

"Let  him  not  come  to  me  for  comfort!"  ex 
claimed  Anne,  straightening  up  with  sudden  vigor, 
her  face  flushing  high  ;  "  nor  if  it  is  money  that  he 
is  after !  Not  a  stiver  have  I  save  what  certain 
good  friends  from  Antwerp  advance  me.  Have  I 
not  suffered  my  plate  to  be  sold  to  aid  him  in  this 
good-for-nothing  Beggar  war  ?  Did  I  not  warn  him 
from  the  first  how  it  would  end  ?  But  he  only  turned 
a  deaf  ear  to  me  and  now  he  is  nicely  caught  in  the 
net !  Of  course  he  is  in  difficulties,  but  they  are  of 
his  own  seeking  !  I  have  enough  of  my  own." 

At  that  moment  a  heavy  curtain  at  the  opposite 
end  of  the  room  was  lifted  and  in  stepped  a  person 
age  of  portly  figure,  wrapped  in  a  long  dressing 
gown  of  crimson  velvet,  edged  with  fur,  a  man  with 
a  full  florid  face  and  wide  moustachios,  a  man  whom 
Norbert  instantly  recognized  with  unspeakable 
amazement,  as  the  Antwerp  councillor,  Jan  Rubens, 
who  had  emigrated  two  years  before  to  Cologne. 


282 

He  had  entered  the  room  without  knock  or  warn 
ing,  in  fashion  most  intimate  and  familiar,  and  had 
advanced  a  step  or  two  before  he  appeared  to  dis 
cover  that  it  was  not  some  member  of  her  house 
hold  whom  the  princess  was  rating.  Catching  the 
eyes  of  Norbert  fixed  upon  his  face,  the  recognition 
became  mutual,  and  in  awkward  confusion  Rubens 
was  about  withdrawing  hastily  when  the  lady  called, 
quite  unabashed  : 

"  Do  not  go,  my  friend.  I  was  even  on  the  point 
of  sending  for  you.  You  have  seen  Master  Tontorf, 
as  you  have  told  me,  long  ago  in  Breda.  Is  it  not 
so  ?  Eh  bien,  he  is  now  clerk  or  something  to  the 
prince,  and  I  wish  you  to  show  him  the  letter  you 
are  writing  for  my  attorney,  Betz,  to  present  at 
Vienna." 

With  these  words  Anne  of  Saxony  stepped  to  the 
desk  near  at  hand.  As  she  spoke  she  looked  across 
the  room  at  Rubens  with  a  broadly  flattering  glance. 

"Come,"  she  added,  with  brutal  mockery,  "it 
must  surely  please  monsieur  to  know  that  I  have 
so  goodly  an  advocate  in  his  absence  to  care  for  my 
interests." 

The  sudden  change  from  the  heartless  coldness  of 
her  manner  while  speaking  of  her  husband  to  her 
undisguised  blandishment  of  the  Antwerp  refugee 
aroused  in  Norbert  a  sudden  whirlwind  of  anger, 
and  a  wild  desire  to  draw  his  pistol  and  shoot  the 
guilty  pair  on  the  spot,  for  that  guilty  they  were 
no  smallest  doubt  remained  in  his  mind. 

Rubens,  meantime,  restored  to  his  wonted  com 
placency,  nodded  patronizingly  to  Norbert  and  ad 
vanced  to  the  desk,  over  which  he  and  the  lady 
now  leaned  together,  whispering  and  smiling  with 
an  infuriating  air  of  confidential  understanding. 

"This  is  the  letter,  my  good  Tontorf,"  Rubens 
began  as  he  turned  from  the  desk  and  faced  Nor 
bert,  holding  a  newly  written  and  yet  unfolded 
letter  in  his  hand. 


283 

"It  is  addressed,"  he  continued  pompously,  "to 
his  Imperial  Majesty,  the  Emperor  Maximilian.  It 
is  written  in  the  name  and  person  and  by  the  desire 
and  demand  of  this  most  worshipful  lady,  the 
Princess  of  Orange,  but  composed  and  framed  by 
her  humble  and  unworthy  servant,  Jan  Rubens." 
And  with  the  words,  which  he  rolled  forth  unctu 
ously,  he  made  a  deep  bow  to  the  princess,  who 
responded  by  a  languishing  smile  which  made  Nor- 
bert's  blood  tingle  with  disgust. 

"Whereas,"  Rubens  read  on,  "my  quondam 
husband,  the  Prince  of  Orange,  Lord  of  Breda, 
etc.,  etc.,  has  refused  obedience  to  the  summons 
of  his  liege  lord,  his  majesty  of  Spain,  through  the 
Duke  of  Alva,  and  in  consequence  of  the  proclama 
tion  now  in  force  against  him,  he  has  suffered  civil 
death,  in  the  eyes  of  the  Netherland  law  he  is  a 
dead  man  ;  ergo,  on  Netherland  soil,  I,  his  former 
spouse  and  consort,  am  now  a  widow  ;  ergo,  the 
Netherlands  estates,  of  which  the  aforesaid  Prince 
of  Orange,  now  deceased,  was  possessed,  belong 


Rubens  read  no  further. 

A  blow,  swift  and  sudden,  with  the  flat  of  a  short 
sword  had  torn  the  paper  in  twain  and  tossed  it  on 
the  ground,  and  a  sharper  blow  of  the  same  sort  on 
the  head  of  the  councillor  sent  him  abjectly  reeling, 
though  uninjured,  to  the  floor. 

Norbert  turned  then  to  the  lady,  who  stood  in 
rigid  and  speechless  consternation  at  his  temerity. 

"  Madame,"  he  said  sternly,  his  sword  clenched 
hard  in  his  hand,  his  mouth  set,  "  you  have  done 
most  foul  and  cowardly  injury  to  the  noblest  gen 
tleman  and  the  faithfulest  husband  whom  it  has 
ever  been  my  lot  to  look  upon.  He  whom  you 
despise  as  dead  is  living,  and  his  name  will  live 
through  coming  ages.  But  you,  who  have  shown 
yourself  unworthy  to  share  his  great  name,  incapa 
ble  of  perceiving  his  great  nature,  will,  ere  long, 


284 

trust  me,  find  yourself  dead  in  the  eye  of  the  law, 
and  dead  past  resurrection." 

With  these  words,  Norbert  strode  from  the  room 
and  down  the  staircase. 

In  the  halls  below  he  encountered  Hauff  the 
house-steward. 

"Tell  that  scoundrel,  Rubens,  up  there,  if  you 
will,"  he  said  coolly,  unheeding  the  piercing  shrieks 
which  now  resounded  from  above,  "  that  I  would  be 
glad  to  fight  him,  if  he  is  not  afraid  to  fight,  when 
next  I  am  in  Cologne.  Nothing  would  please  me 
better  than  to  throw  his  carcass  in  the  Rhine  to  make 
food  for  the  fishes.  Remember,  if  you  please." 

With  which  words  he  called  for  his  horse  and 
galloped  out  again  into  the  miserable  stormy  night 
back  through  the  streets  of  Cologne  to  the  Gasthaus 
%um  Hirsch. 

As  he  entered  the  low  inn-room  with  its  sanded 
floor  and  sordid  comfortlessness,  Norbert  found  it 
occupied  by  a  half-dozen  Hessian  soldiers  of  the 
roughest  sort.  Ill  pleased  at  this  fact,  he  was 
scarcely  better  suited  when  he  found  himself  con 
fronted  almost  as  he  crossed  the  threshold,  by  a 
tall,  haggard  shape,  a  man  of  emaciated  face  and 
sunken,  wandering  eyes,  in  whom  he  recognized 
at  once  his  father's  old  friend,  the  Middelburg 
pastor,  Droust. 

Norbert  knew  that  the  unfortunate  man  still  lin 
gered  in  Cologne,  homeless,  but  harmless  in  his 
lunacy,  but  it  had  been  far  from  his  expectation  to 
meet  him.  However,  recognition  being  unavoida 
ble,  he  returned  Droust's  emphatic  greeting  with  as 
little  circumstance  as  might  be,  and  was  about  to 
cross  the  room  to  the  low  counter  where  the  land 
lord  stood,  watchful-eyed,  among  his  stoups  and 
tankards,  and  to  inquire  of  him  whether  the  mer 
chant,  George  Certain,  from  Rudesheim,  had  lodg 
ing  in  his  house,  when  he  found  the  hand  of  Droust 
laid  hard  upon  his  shoulder. 


285 

His  manner,  which  had  not  at  first  been  notice 
able,  had  changed  with  the  marvelous  swiftness  of 
insanity.  Lowering  his  voice  and  speaking  in  an 
awestruck  whisper,  which  was,  however,  to  be 
heard  throughout  the  room,  he  said  : 

"  Know  you  who  is  there  ?  " 

With  these  words  he  pointed  upward  to  the  low 
murky  ceiling  not  over  a  foot  above  his  head. 

Norbert  felt  his  hair  rise  with  sudden  dread. 
He  would  have  shaken  the  man's  hand  from  his 
shoulder,  but  feared  to  arouse  him  to  a  more  peril 
ous  violence. 

The  soldiers  in  the  room,  who  had  not  appeared 
to  notice  Norbert  on  his  entrance,  now  looked  up 
from  their  beer  mugs  and  stared  at  the  speaker  with 
coarse,  jeering  wonder. 

Still  pointing  upward  and  striking  into  a  singular, 
chanted  wail  of  mournful  solemnity,  Droust  now 
cried  : 

"  O  thou  Hope  of  Israel, 
Thou  Saviour  thereof  in  time  of  trouble, 
Why  shouldest  thou  be  as  a  stranger  in  the  land? 
As  a  wayfaring  man  who  turns  aside  to  tarry  for  a  night? 
Why  shouldest  thou  be  as  a  man  astonied? 
As  a  mighty  man  that  cannot  save  !  " 

Startled  for  a  moment  by  the  wild  pathos  of 
these  words  and  the  passionate  intensity  with  which 
they  were  pronounced,  Norbert  now  rallied  himself 
to  check  any  further  outburst,  and  had  broken  away 
and  approached  the  door,  feigning  to  be  afraid  of 
the  man,  when  Droust  cried  at  the  highest  pitch  of 
his  voice,  trembling  with  fierce  upbraiding :  "  O, 
ye  of  Nederland,  answer !  Cravens  and  cowards, 
make  reply  ! 

"  Wherefore  when  I  came  was  there  no  man? 
When  I  called  was  there  none  to  answer?" 

Look  upon  him  whose  heart  his  countrymen  have 
broken  !  " 


286 

Then  sinking  his  voice  again  to  a  whisper  and 
addressing  Norbert  with  curious,  childish  exulta 
tion,  he  added  : 

"  The  prince  is  here.  Could  a  man  who  had 
once  seen  him  forget  ?  " 

At  this  word  the  soldiers,  who  had  been  gaping 
wide-eyed  upon  the  scene,  sprang  as  with  one  con 
sent  to  their  feet,  and  with  fierce  and  hostile  glances 
advanced  toward  Norbert,  the  foremost  among  them, 
exclaiming : 

"  What  is  all  this,  young  man  ?  This  madman, 
it  seems,  knows  more  than  any  of  us  !  Who  is  in 
this  house  ?  If  you  know,  make  answer  !  " 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  "  exclaimed  Norbert, 
with  bluff  impatience;  "  have  I  not  just  come  in, 
my  good  friends  ?  As  for  yon  arm-gaunt  lunatic's 
raving,  an'  so  you  be  such  gulls  as  to  pay  heed  to 
it,  I  will  bid  you  good  even  and  seek  my  bed  if 
mine  host  can  direct  me  to  one  up  yonder.  Sleep 
were  better  than  such  idle  chaffer." 

As  he  spoke  Norbert  had  little  by  little  made  his 
way  to  the  door.  Lowering  looks  and  muttered 
curses  and  calls  of  "  Nassau  !  Nassau  !  "  had  met 
his  speech.  His  intent  was,  if  matters  became 
more  threatening,  to  make  a  bold  dash  up  the  stairs, 
warn  the  prince,  whose  room  in  that  small  house 
he  could  not  fail  to  find,  and  stand  guard  while  in 
some  way  he  should  make  good  his  escape. 

But  already  he  saw  that  such  action  would  be  im 
possible.  The  soldiers,  who  were  of  the  hired  Hes 
sian  troops  of  the  army  which  the  prince  had  but  two 
weeks  since  disbanded  at  Strasburg,  half-paid  in 
spite  of  his  desperate  sacrifice  and  efforts,  were 
already  surrounding  him,  hands  on  swords,  their 
swarthy  faces  aflame  with  fierce  suspicion.  Droust 
had  sunk  back  into  his  corner  in  a  miserable  col 
lapse  of  uncomprehending  bewilderment.  The  host 
stared,  impassive  and  neutral,  from  his  place. 

"  You  come   not  off  so  easy  with   your  cheap 


287 

talk,  master,"  cried  the  men.  "Bide  you  here! 
Fools  and  madmen  speak  sometimes  truer  than 
other  men.  If  William  of  Nassau  is  in  this  house 
we  shall  see  him,  he  shall  not  escape  us  !  " 

"  Look  at  our  shoes  !  "  cried  their  spokesman, 
pointing  to  his  ill-shod  feet ;  "  look  at  these  rags," 
and  he  displayed  his  tattered  doublet.  "  We  fight 
for  pay  and  no  pay  have  we  got.  Neither  food  nor 
drink  nor  shelter  has  his  excellency  provided  us 
this  month  past.  And  now  we  hear  he  is  off  to 
France,  to  their  lordships  at  La  Rochelle,  while  we 
poor  devils  drop  in  our  tracks  of  cold  and  hunger  !  " 

"  Has  the  Prince  of  Orange  wherewith  to  pay 
you,  my  friend  ?  I  have  heard  that  he  is  himself 
impoverished,"  returned  Norbert,  seeking  now  only 
to  stem  the  tide  and  unable  to  foresee  the  issue  of 
this  most  unlucky  encounter. 

"  We'll  have  it  out  of  him  !  "  cried  a  big  blonde 
giant  with  hollow  cheeks  and  a  coarse  bristling 
moustache  who  had  stood  in  the  background  staring 
at  Norbert  under  fiercely  knit  brows. 

"  But  he  has  sold  his  plate,  sold  his  jewels,  sold 
his  horses,  harness,  his  very  tent !  "  cried  Norbert, 
whose  passion  was  now  rising  hotly  and  who  could 
no  longer  sustain  his  futile  show  of  indifference. 
"His  Netherlands  estates  are  all  confiscate.  He 
has  done  his  uttermost  !  " 

"  He  has  his  castle  of  Dillenburg  yet,  however," 
growled  the  man  savagely  ;  "  we  will  make  holiday 
and  ride  over-  the  hills,  a  dozen  or  two  of  us,  and 
see  what  he  may  have  tucked  away  there." 

"It  may  hap,"  said  the  leader,  with  a  coarse 
laugh,  "that  we  find  enough  to  fill  our  pouches  for 
a  day  or  more.  It's  worth  the  ride.  But  we'll  see 
who  is  hid  here  in  the  house  first — hen,  my  men?  " 

At  this  moment  the  host  of  the  Hirsch,  who  had 
stood  on  the  edge  of  the  angry  group  and  to  whom 
Norbert  thought  to  appeal  in  the  defense  of  the 
prince,  interposed  with  the  remark  : 


288 

"  There  is  in  good  sooth,  my  masters,  a  gentle 
man  who  sits  writing  at  this  moment  in  the  room 
above  us  who  seeks  to  pass  for  a  wine  merchant 
from  Riidesheim.  It  may  be  that  such  is  his  per 
son  and  degree,  but  b.eshrew  me  if  ever  until  this 
night  I  have  met  wine  merchants  whose  letters,  as 
they  lie  on  the  table,  bear  the  seal  of  Spain  and 
of  the  emperor !  " 

A  wild  uproar  greeted  this  statement  and  Nor- 
bert  noted  with  deepest  dread  the  harsh  implacable 
determination  on  every  face.  More  than  once,  in 
the  months  just  passed,  he  had  seen  the  life  of  the 
prince  in  imminent  danger  from  the  mutinous  mer 
cenaries,  had  even  seen  his  sword  shot  from  his 
side  in  such  an  outbreak. 

How  many  of  these  ferocious  brutes  could  he 
dispatch  before  they  would  dispatch  him  ?  was  all 
the  question  which  now  seemed  left  him.  To  die 
fighting  for  the  prince  had  no  terrors,  but  to  make 
that  death  availing,  this  alone  was  left. 

A  hand  was  laid  then  on  Norbert's  shoulder. 
Turning  he  saw  the  prince  himself  at  his  side.  The 
gray  surtout  and  broad-brimmed  hat  had  been  re 
moved  and  he  stood  with  bared  head,  the  striking 
nobility  of  his  face  now  fully  displayed. 

For  an  instant,  while  the  soldiers  for  awe  of  him 
fell  back,  their  wild  and  murderous  clamor  dying 
down  to  a  sullen  muttering,  the  prince  stood  in 
silence  looking  at  them  with  fearless  repose  of  bear 
ing  and  yet  with  a  light  of  proud  and  regal  com 
mand  in  his  dark  eyes  : 

"  I  heard  my  name  called,"  he  said  then  quietly  ; 
"you  are  men,  if  I  mistake  not,  who  have  been 
with  us  in  our  campaign  in  Flanders." 

"That  we  are,"  cried  the  foremost  Hessian 
threateningly.  "  We  have  seen  service  with  your 
excellency,  but  we  have  not  seen  our  wages  yet. 
Look  at  our  condition,"  and  he  displayed  his  de 
plorable  habiliments. 


289 

Norbert  kept  his  hand  on  his  pistol  and  his  eye 
on  the  savage  blonde  fellow  who  stood  against  the 
wall  and  whose  look  was  ominously  ugly  as  it 
rested  upon  the  face  of  the  prince. 

"  My  men,  your  plight  is  hard  enough,"  returned 
the  prince  with  freehearted  earnestness;  "if  it 
were  in  my  power  to  relieve  your  necessities  most 
gladly  would  I  do  it.  But  I  am,  as  you  now  see 
me,  stripped  down  to  the  barest  needs.  I  have 
scarce  two  horses  left  or  a  second  doublet  to  my 
back,  a  roof  over  my  head  or  a  gulden  in  my  wallet. 
What  I  have  had  has  been  shared  with  my  soldiers, 
and  what  I  shall  have  in  months  to  come  shall  be 
likewise.  Can  I  do  more  ?  " 

Stubborn  murmurs,  "We  want  our  wages,"  still 
arose. 

"  You  might  take  my  life,"  said  the  prince,  noting 
their  savage  temper  "but  a  dead  man  pays  no 
debts.  I  am  not  loth  to  die,  and  I  stand  defenseless 
before  you  ;  and  yet  a  stab  in  the  dark  is  little  to 
my  liking.  The  Nassaus  are  not  cowards,  but  we 
would  fain  die  in  the  field,  fighting  for  faith  and 
freedom.  The  boy  Adolf  left  dead  in  the  bloody 
marshes  of  Heiliger-Lee  was  the  first  of  us  to  fall, 
but  he  will  not  be  the  last.  But  as  long  as  I  have 
life  I  shall  labor  to  discharge  my  just  debts  to  my 
men.  If  I  had  aught  it  should  be  yours  this  very 
night.  But  what  have  I  left  ?  " 

The  blonde  fellow  in  the  background  growled 
between  his  teeth  : 

"  We  will  go  to  Dillenburg  and  see  !  " 

"You  might  go  to  Dillenburg,"  returned  the 
prince  with  a  vibration  of  passion  in  his  voice  which 
he  was  unable  wholly  to  control,  "and  what  would 
you  find  there  ?  A  heartbroken,  aged  mother, 
weeping  for  her  dead  son,  and  praying  that  those 
remaining  may  be  spared  to  her  ;  a  company  of 
faithful  wives  and  sisters  and  little  children  ;  a 
house  stripped  bare  of  all  but  necessities  for  the 

T 


290 

sake  of  the  cause  for  which  we  have  fought  to 
gether.  No,  my  men,  go  not  to  Dillenburg.  Go 
rather  with  me  to  France,  as  a  thousand  of  your 
fellow-soldiers  are  pledged  to  do,  and  bear  arms  for 
the  same  good  cause  on  French  soil.  Count  Louis 
is  already  there.  We  shall  come  back  to  the  con 
flict  at  home  when  the  time  is  ripe.  The  Hugue 
nots  are  not  so  poor  as  we  Gueux.  You  will  get 
your  pay  fighting  there.  If  I  return  alive  I  pledge 
you  now,  herewith,  on  my  honor  as  man  and  prince, 
my  body  itself,  which  you  can  hold  alive  or  dead  for 
ransom  if  I  cannot  by  other  means  pay  you  the  last 
penny  I  owe  you  !  " 

The  men  looked  in  open-mouthed  wonder  at  each 
other  and  were  silent.  No  man  had  ever  known 
the  Prince  of  Orange  to  break  a  pledge.  The  se 
curity  was  unfamiliar,  but  it  might  be  sufficient. 
And  this  French  campaign  was  perhaps  the  next 
best  thing  to  turn  to.  Even  their  brutal  selfishness 
was  touched  for  the  moment,  moreover,  by  the 
fearless  confidence  of  the  prince  and  by  the  steady 
patience  with  which  he  met  their  demands. 

He  was  quick  to  see  the  advantage  he  had  gained. 

"My  men,"  he  cried,  "I  am  tired.  I  have 
ridden  far  to-day  and  have  farther  to  ride  to 
morrow.  Ride  with  me,  as  many  of  you  as  are 
ready  for  the  fight  in  France  ;  but  I  would  be  glad 
now  to  rest.  If  you  want  me  you  can  find  me, 
although  where  I  am  to  lodge,  in  faith,  I  know  not 
yet.  Tontorf,  how  is  that  ?  "  he  added,  turning 
quickly,  for  a  sudden,  eager  question  was  brighten 
ing  his  eye.  "  Have  we  other  haven  for  the  night 
than  this  house,  whose  master  methinks  might 
have  proved  friendlier  to  a  somewhat  weary  way 
farer  ?  " 

"  Nay,  my  lord,  alas,  we  have  nowhere  else  to 
go,"  said  Norbert  under  his  breath. 

A  swift  change  passed  over  the  face  of  the  prince. 
The  grim  finality  and  bitterness  of  Norbert's  words 


291 

and  tone  gave  the  outline  of  a  picture  whose  colors 
he  could  but  too  easily  imagine.  For  a  moment  the 
sense  of  homelessness  and  desolation  pierced  his 
heart  and  entered  deep  into  his  soul.  Slowly  and 
with  an  effort  he  spoke  again. 

"  1  am  going  up  to  the  room  yonder  now,  where 
I  shall  sleep  for  a  few  hours."  Then  with  swift 
command  he  cried  heartily  :  "  How  many  of  you, 
then,  will  meet  me  here  at  six  in  the  morning  and 
ride  with  me  to  Treves  ?  " 

After  a  moment,  in  which  they  exchanged  glances, 
every  man  held  up  his  hand,  the  big  blonde  alone 
surly  and  reluctant  still. 

The  prince  bade  them  shake  hands  upon  it,  and, 
with  a  courteous  good-night,  withdrew.  Norbert 
followed  him  up  the  dark  staircase  and  they  entered 
the  dismal  chamber  together. 

The  prince  made  no  comment  on  the  encounter 
with  the  soldiers  which  he  apparently  dismissed  at 
once  from  his  mind  as  of  small  importance,  nor  did 
the  least  apprehension  of  further  danger  from  their 
hostility  seem  to  remain  in  his  mind. 

"Have  you  any  word,  any  message  for  me, 
Tontorf,  from  my  wife  ?  "  he  asked  as  he  threw 
himself  upon  his  narrow  bed. 

"None,  my  lord,"  was  Norbert's  brief  answer. 
More  he  could  not  say  for  very  ruth. 

There  was  silence  for  many  minutes,  then  the 
prince  spoke  again. 

"  The  first  dispatch  I  opened  to-night  was  a  copy 
of  a  letter  to  Alva  from  Cardinal  Granvelle." 

"Yes,  your  excellency." 

"  He  says  '  Orange  is  a  dead  man.'  Tontorf,  we 
shall  have  to  convince  the  cardinal  that  he  is  mis 
taken." 

"Yes,  your  excellency." 

In  another  quarter  of  an  hour  the  prince  slept. 

At  daybreak,  as  Norbert  stood  guard  at  the 
chamber  door  a  tall  figure  stole  down  the  narrow 


292 

passage  in  silence  to  his  side,  a  figure  which  he 
presently  discerned  to  be  that  of  the  preacher 
Droust  as  it  stood  motionless  before  him. 

"Here,"  he  said,  holding  out  a  small  and  dirty 
canvas  bag  containing  gold  and  silver,  "this  is  for 
him.  I  have  no  more  need  of  it.  I  can  see  now 
what  I  saw  not  last  night  below  there.  I  know 
what  I  have  done.  But  for  God's  mercy  my  hands 
might  have  been  covered  with  blood — his  blood  !  " 
And  a  groan  of  agony  broke  from  his  trembling 
lips. 

Norbert  sought  to  soothe  his  anguish  of  remorse, 
but  straightening  himself  suddenly,  Droust  whis 
pered  sternly  under  his  breath  : 

"  Why  did  you  not  put  your  pistol  to  my  head 
and  fire  when  I  spoke  the  first  word  ?  You  had 
saved  my  doing  it  now.  Farewell." 

So  saying,  the  broken-hearted  and  shattered 
man  turned  on  his  heel  and  disappeared. 


XXVII 

THE  ROMANY  WOMAN 

T    EAVES  from  the  note-book  of  the  Demoiselle 
[_j     de  Mousson. 

Jouarre,  March,  1569: 

"  Le  Prince  de  Con/ft 
11  a'tt't  tu'e. ; 

Mais  Monsieur  f  Amiral 
Est  encore  a  cheval. ' ' 

This  rough  verse  a  soldier  went  singing  down 
the  road  into  the  village  as  my  lady  and  I  were 
taking  our  way  back  to  the  abbey.  We  had  been 
training  the  village  girls,  who  are  preparing  for 
their  Lady  Day  fete.  Spring  is  in  the  air,  and  we 
had  found  violets  and  anemones  at  the  wood's  edge. 
The  breath  of  peace  seemed  to  blow  in  the  soft 
wind  and  to  stir  in  the  buds  and  to  speak  in  the  gay 
little  chirp  of  a  robin.  There  was  a  thrill  of  the 
joy  of  it  in  my  lady's  voice,  and  it  stirred  in  my 
heart,  for  war  seemed  a  thing  incredible,  and  room 
yet  in  our  fair  France  for  hope  and  gladness. 

Then  the  soldier  went  singing  and  swinging  down 
the  road,  and  our  hearts  stood  still,  and  the  dear 
light  seemed  stained,  and  all  the  world  grew  gray. 

My  lady  bade  me  stop  the  man,  who  wore  the 
king's  colors,  and  call  him  to  her. 

"  What  is  this  you  sing  ?  "  she  asked,  her  face 
grown  white. 

"God's  truth,"  he  said,  and  stared  at  her,  but 
with  reverence,  as  all  men  will,  for  that  high  look 
in  her  face  and  the  gentle  authority  she  bears. 
"  Le  Petit  Homme  est  mori !" 

293 


294 

"  Did  he  die  in  battle  ?"  asked  my  lady. 

"  Madame,  there  has  been  hard  fighting  on  the 
Charente,  near  Jarnac.  The  enemy  were  out 
flanked.  Conde  had  an  arm  crushed,  and  a  kick 
from  the  horse  of  La  Rochefoucauld  broke  his' 
thigh.  '  But  he  dashed  upon  one  of  our  battalions, 
eight  hundred  strong,  his  banner  flying,  at  the  head 
of  but  three  hundred  gentlemen.  He  cried,  'No 
bles  of  France,  mark  in  what  plight  Louis  de  Bour 
bon  enters  the  battle  for  Christ  and  Fatherland  ! '  " 

"  A  gallant  charge  !  "  I  cried,  unable  to  forbear. 

"  Madame,"  said  the  man,  "  the  Prince  of  Conde 
was  a  soldier.  His  worst  foe  cannot  say  otherwise, 
but  he  was  the  great  enemy  of  the  Mass.  His 
horse  was  killed  under  him  and  he  was  surrounded. 
Montesquieu  dispatched  him  with  a  pistol  shot. 
The  body  was  thrown  across  an  ass  and  so  carried 
to  Jarnac." 

"I  would  they  had  thrown  his  banner  over 
him,"  said  my  lady.  "  Dost  thou  remember, 
Jeanne,  the  motto  of  the  Prince  of  Conde,  '  Sweet 
the  peril  for  Christ  and  country '  ?  " 

With  that  her  voice  broke  and  the  tears  came  in 
a  sudden  shower. 

"  It  was  a  great  victory,"  said  the  soldier  stol 
idly  ;  "  the  enemy  lost  hundreds  and  many  officers 
were  slain  or  taken  prisoner." 

"  Coligny  ?  "  asked  Mademoiselle. 

"  He  escaped  and  led  the  retreat  back  to  Cognac, 
but  we  captured  the  Chevalier  de  la  Noue,  which 
was  a  lucky  stroke.  Better  yet  would  it  have 
been  could  we  have  seized  that  yellow-haired 
rover  from  Germany.  He  fought  like  the  devil 
himself  and  yet  with  a  smile  on  his  face  as  if  he 
were  at  a  dance." 

"  The  Count  of  Nassau  !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"That  is  the  man,"  said  the  soldier.  "His 
brother,  the  Prince  of  Orange,  they  say,  is  on  the 
march  now  into  France  with  reinforcements  from 


Germany  for  the  enemy.  Those  Dutchmen  would 
better  stick  to  their  country  and  leave  us  French 
men  to  fight  our  own  battles.  Madame,  I  bid  you 
good-day,"  and  with  this  the  soldier  swung  on  his 
way  to  Jouarre  singing  his  dreadful  little  song. 

Jouarre,  September,  1569:  Jeannette  Vassetz  hath 
a  pleurisy.  She  is  not  in  serious  case,  but  this 
same  pleurisy  will  give  the  story  of  I  know  not 
how  many  lives  a  different  turn  and  issue. 

For  the  Prince  of  Orange,  crossing  France  in  dis 
guise  from  Chatellerault  to  Montbeliard  on  an 
urgent  mission  from  Coligny  to  the  German  princes, 
halted  at  Montargis  and  sent  a  secret  messenger 
ostensibly  with  news  from  Angers,  but  in  reality  to 
offer  safe-conduct  to  my  lady  into  Germany  if  she 
were  mindful  to  leave  Jouarre  at  such  short  notice. 

The  messenger,  disguised  as  a  gray  friar,  was 
none  other  than  Captain  Tontorf,  and  my  lady 
gave  him  private  audience,  the  rather  that  he 
brought  a  word  from  the  Queen  of  Navarre  strongly 
advising  her  to  avail  herself  of  this  means  of  escape. 

"  Your  friends  are  in  no  small  concern,  madame, 
for  your  safety,"  proceeded  this  same  soldier-friar 
earnestly. 

"  And  why,  good  Tontorf  ?  "  asked  my  lady. 
*'  Methinks  nowhere  is  human  safety  to-day,  and 
yet  everywhere  is  the  divine  protection." 

"  Hitherto,  madame,  it  has  been  the  belief  of 
your  friends  that  whatever  threatened  you,  your 
friends  were  powerful  to  be  your  shield.  To-day 
we  are  no  longer  confident.  The  army  has  had 
terrible  reverses  and  is  hard  pressed.  The  forces 
of  Coligny  rest  for  the  moment,  thinned  and  ex 
hausted  at  La  Faye.  The  royalists,  under  the  Due 
d'Anjou  and  the  Prince  Dauphin,  Madame's  brother, 
are  so  near  us  as  Moncontour  in  great  force,  fresh 
and  well  appointed.  There  will  be  bloody  work 
ere  long."  \ 


296 

"  Is  my  father  in  command  of  monseigneur's 
vanguard  ?  " 

"  Even  so.  Mademoiselle  has  heard  of  the  con 
templated  marriage  of  the  Due  de  Montpensier  ?  " 

My  lady  started  violently. 

"  To  whom  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"  To  Catherine  of  Lorraine,  daughter  of  Francois 
of  Guise." 

My  lady  hereupon  became  greatly  agitated. 

The  Lady  Catherine  is  but  eighteen  and  of  a  most 
wanton  character,  with  a  name  even  now  notorious 
for  her  rancorous  spite  against  Huguenoterie,  even 
beyond  what  one  might  expect  of  the  niece  of  the 
Cardinal  de  Lorraine,  "  the  Tiger  of  France." 

Was  it  possible  that  at  fifty-five  the  husband  of 
that  noble  lady,  Jacqueline  de  Long-Vic,  could  form 
a  union  with  such  a  creature  ? 

"Monsieur,"  said  my  lady  sternly,  "are  you 
sure  that  what  you  say  is  true  ?  " 

"  Madame,  there  is  unhappily  no  further  doubt 
on  the  subject.  The  alliance  has  been  negotiated 
by  the  bishop  of  Angers,  Jean  Ruze,  and  the  mar 
riage  is  expected  to  take  place  shortly  in  that  city." 

This  was  indeed  news  from  Angers.  I  could  see 
how  my  lady  put  to  use  all  her  will  and  control,  so 
crowding  down  her  outraged  feelings,  as  she  now 
said  quietly  to  Tontorf : 

"  This  being  so,  monsieur,  I  can  the  better  under 
stand  the  concern  of  my  friends.  I  am  indeed 
doubly  alone  in  the  world  if  such  is  my  father's 
choice.  Tell  me,  then,  what  is  in  the  mind  of 
Madame  d'AIbret?  " 

"  Your  highness,  as  you  know,  it  is  no  longer  pos 
sible  for  her  majesty,  who  shares  the  dangers  and 
fortunes  of  the  army  since  she  has  put  her  young 
son  at  the  head  of  it,  to  offer  you  a  safe  retreat. 
It  is  her  belief  that  nowhere  in  France  can  such  be 
found  for  the  daughter  of  so  bitter  a  Romanist  and 
so  powerful  a  prince  and  soldier  as  your  father." 


297 

"Whither  could  we  go  ?  "  asked  Mademoiselle, 
trembling  not  a  little. 

"  The  Prince  of  Orange  has  with  him  forty 
mounted  companions,  true  blades  every  one.  He 
engages  to  convey  Madame  1'Abbesse  and  two  of 
her  ladies  safely  over  the  border,  and  to  any  court 
in  Germany  she  may  name.  He  makes  bold  to 
assure  her  warm  welcome  and  strong  protection  at 
the  hands  of  the  Elector  Palatine." 

"  The  Prince  of  Orange,"  said  my  lady  slowly, 
"  has  met  with  reverses,  as  we  hear,  himself.  But 
he  has  a  heart  for  the  needs  of  others,  it  seems, 
even  strangers." 

"Madame,"  replied  Tontorf,  and  his  voice  be 
trayed  strong  feeling,  "  I  have  seen  my  lord  when 
he  lived  in  royal  splendor,  the  most  magnificent 
grandee  of  the  Netherlands,  and  I  thought  him  then 
the  greatest  man  I  had  ever  seen.  But  now  I  have 
seen  him  when,  like  our  blessed  Redeemer,  he  had 
not  where  to  lay  his  head,  when  he  was  hunted, 
poor,  threatened,  rejected,  and  counted  as  dead 
even  by  the  woman  who  is  called  his  wife,  and  in 
such  extremity  I  have  found  him  far,  far  greater, 
such  is  his  constancy,  his  courage,  his  fortitude. 
Forgive  me  if  I  speak  over-boldly,  but  my  lord  has 
been  greatly  misjudged,  and  there  are  few  now  to 
raise  their  voices  on  his  behalf." 

"You  do  well  to  speak,  Captain  Tontorf,"  said 
my  lady  gravely.  There  were  tears  in  her  eyes, 
but  there  rested  on  her  face  that  new  light  of  lofty 
yet  humble  homage  with  which  the  mention  of  the 
prince  ever  inspires  her.  "  Sure  such  a  man  can 
yet  win  victory  out  of  defeat,  and  by  God's  grace 
he  will.  It  touches  me  deeply  that  amid  his  own 
private  anxieties  and  upon  his  urgent  mission  the 
prince  should  thus  turn  aside  and  suffer  delay  in  my 
behalf.  Have  you  considered  by  what  means  so  bold 
a  venture  could  be  contrived,  for  to  me  it  is  full 
sudden  ?  " 


298 

"Yes,  your  highness,  we  have  presumed  to  frame 
the  plan  that  you  and  two  of  your  ladies  should  on 
this  very  morning,  even  within  an  hour  or  two,  set 
out  on  an  alleged  mission  to  the  convent  of  Sainte 
Foy,  at  Coulommiers.  There  I  will  meet  you  with 
the  small  guard  which  now  awaits  my  return.  By 
sharp  riding  we  can  reach  Montargis  by  noon  to 
morrow.  His  excellency  awaits  our  coming.  The 
rest  follows." 

I  could  see  that  my  lady  was  greatly  moved. 
She  gave  her  hand  to  Tontorf  without  a  word,  and 
he  touched  it  as  if  she  had  been  the  Holy  Virgin  to 
whom  he  had  just  sworn  himself. 

"Oh,  my  lady,"  I  burst  forth,  unable  longer  to 
control  myself,  for  all  my  pulses  were  running  wild 
in  my  longing  to  be  free,  "do  not  stop  to  think! 
You  will  hesitate  and  the  chance  will  be  lost ! 
Say  yes,  I  beg  of  you,  and  take  me  with  you  !  " 

Vain,  selfish  words  !    I  saw  it  in  a  moment. 

My  lady  had  flushed  high,  and  for  a  moment  I 
believe  she  was  indeed  ready  to  follow  my  poor 
counsel.  The  tender  care  of  the  Queen  of  Navarre, 
perhaps  yet  more  the  determined  effort  of  the 
prince,  her  own  indignant  protest  against  the  insult 
to  her  mother's  memory  by  this  marriage  of  the 
Due,  and  the  fresh  dangers  which  would  now  be 
brought  to  threaten  her  own  life  and  liberty  by  the 
close  alliance  with  the  Guises,  for  a  moment  com 
bined  to  a  mighty  force. 

"Jeanne,"  she  said  slowly,  "at  this  moment  I 
feel  my  duty  here  ended.  The  vows  of  my  child 
hood  I  have  long  held  to  be  null  and  void.  My 
father  has  chosen  to  sever  the  ties  which  bound  me 
to  him  and  which  might  have  availed  to  hold  me 
here  in  obedience  to  his  will.  I  am  free.  Never 
again  perchance  will  such  noble  guardiance  be  prof 
fered  me." 

"  Then,  dear  lady,"  urged  Tontorf,  "  say  quickly 
you  will  go.  One  word  is  all,  and  I  am  off." 


299 

There  was  the  silence  of  a  moment,  and  then  : 

"I  cannot,"  said  my  lady  simply,  paling  sud 
denly,  her  hands  falling  languidly  apart.  "  Go, 
my  friend.  Give  my  deepest  gratitude  to  his  grace 
of  Orange,  but  say  it  is  impossible." 

"  Why,  why,  my  lady  ?  "  I  begged. 

"Have  we  both  forgotten  our  poor  little  Jean- 
nette  on  her  sick  bed  ?  Jeanne,  have  you  forgot 
ten  too,  that  old  promise  we  children  made  in  Our 
Lady's  Arbor :  '  Together  we  stay,  together  we 
go '  ?  You  would  not  break  that  pledge,  dear 
Jeanne  ?  " 

"  No,  my  lady,"  I  said,  and  my  head  drooped 
low,  for  the  great,  mad,  joyous  hope  with  which  all 
my  body  was  thrilling  died  then.  "No,  my  lady, 
we  will  keep  our  pledge." 

In  few  words  Mademoiselle  showed  our  case  to 
Tontorf.  He  chafed  hotly  for  a  little,  and  yet  saw 
that  other  decision  could  not  be. 

"Your  highness,  there  is  no  more  to  be  said,'* 
he  said  under  his  breath.  "  Be  of  good  courage. 
Heaven  has  such  as  you  in  holy  keeping.  Your 
friends,  be  sure,  will  never  cease  to  watch  over 
you  while  life  and  liberty  are  theirs." 

And  with  that  he  was  gone,  strangely,  mysteri 
ously  as  he  had  come. 

Then  said  my  lady,  lifting  a  finger  of  warning : 

"Jeanne  de  Mousson,  if  you  should  ever  let  this 
be  known  to  the  good  little  Vassetz  I  will  have  such 
a  penance  given  you  as  will  take  all  your  life  to 
accomplish,"  and  so,  smiling,  she  brushed  a  few 
tears  from  her  eyelashes  and  betook  herself 
straightway  to  the  infirmary. 

Jouarre,  June,  1570:  My  lady  talked  with  me  long 
and  seriously  to-day  and  I  had  a  glimpse  into  the 
deep  life  of  her  spirit. 

The  conflict  of  the  two  great  forms  of  religion 
has  become  doubly  severe  for  her  by  reason  of  her 


office  as  abbess  of  this  house.  She  can  no  longer 
find  satisfaction  in  the  Mass,  in  confession,  and  in 
the  invocation  of  the  blessed  Virgin  and  the  saints. 
The  power  of  the  immediate,  simple  approach  to 
God  and  our  Saviour  which  Protestantism  offers, 
appeals  to  her  mightily.  And  yet  she  sees  much 
that  is  noble  and  true  in  the  ancient  faith  and  seeks 
with  fervent  will  to  overcome  the  discord  between 
the  two.  She  longs  for  freedom  to  follow  her  inner 
light  and  leading  fully,  but  since  freedom  may  not 
be,  she  seeks  in  humility  and  patience  to  walk  in 
her  appointed  path. 

Jouarre,  10  August,  1570:  Great  rejoicing  through 
out  France  to-day,  for,  thanks  to  the  good  offices 
and  skillful  conduct  of  the  negotiations  of  Messieurs 
Teligny  and  La  Noue  at  St.  Germain-en-Laye,  a 
new  and  favorable  edict  of  peace  has  been  declared, 
and  the  land  at  last  is  to  have  rest.  This  has  been 
the  fiercest  civil  war  that  France  has  ever  known, 
and  the  whole  land  lies  bleeding. 

The  terms  of  the  peace,  as  might  be  expected, 
leave  much  yet  to  desire  for  the  Huguenots,  but 
the  king  formally  and  in  good  set  terms  recognizes 
as  faithful  relations  and  servants  the  Queen  of 
Navarre,  the  Prince  Henri  her  son,  and  the  late 
Prince  of  Conde  and  his  son ;  their  followers  as 
loyal  subjects  ;  and  by  name,  as  good  neighbors 
and  friends,  the  Prince  of  Orange  and  his  brother, 
Count  Louis  of  Nassau. 

Jouarre,  January,  7577 :  We  have  been  for  a  time 
without  a  confessor  in  residence,  the  good  priest 
of  La  Ferte  serving  our  needs  most  cheerfully.  But 
now  a  chaplain  has  been  sent  us,  sent  we  are  con 
fident  from  the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine  himself,  at 
the  instance  of  his  niece,  Madame  de  Montpensier, 
who  has  lately  visited  our  convent. 

Truly  her  visit  boded  us  little  good.     Her  inso- 


301 

lence,  as  also  her  suspicion  of  my  lady's  Catholicity, 
were  scarce  veiled  by  her  very  indifferent  courtesy. 
To  me,  for  some  cause,  she  manifested  a  peculiar 
aversion.  On  her  departure,  having  learned  through 
Sister  Marie  Beauclerc  that  Mademoiselle  absents 
herself  from  confession,  and  even  from  Mass  as  far 
as  may  be,  she  forebore  not  to  speak  in  palpably 
threatening  terms. 

"  Monseigneur  le  Due,  machere,"  she  said  with 
a  cruel  sneer,  "will,  in  his  fatherly  tenderness, 
watch  over  you  something  more  carefully  hence 
forward.  In  truth  you  have  been  sadly  neglected, 
and  I  shall  so  admonish  the  excellent  Ruze,  whom 
we  hold  Mademoiselle's  spiritual  father  still." 

Shortly  after  there  appeared  upon  the  scene  this 
young  and  fiery  Benedictine  monk,  whom  we  call 
Pere  Brodier.  This  is  the  first  effect  upon  us  of 
the  marriage  of  Mademoiselle's  father. 

Pere  Brodier  has  taken  up  his  abode  with  us, 
my  lady  consenting  perforce  since  he  came  direct 
from  the  Bishop  of  Meaux,  and  she  has  no  reason 
to  urge  against  him. 

The  sight  of  the  man  chills  me,  and  he  is  every 
where  I  go.  He  has  cold,  measuring  eyes,  sharp 
as  a  ferret's  withal,  and  a  soft,  low  voice,  which 
angers  me  every  time  I  hear  it.  With  him  set  to 
watch  over  us,  Jouarre  becomes  intolerable. 

This  much  is  certain.  We  can  no  longer  receive 
the  Sieur  de  Minay  as  hitherto,  and  enjoy  his  pious 
and  learned  instruction,  and  no  longer  do  we  even 
venture  to  receive  his  letters  nor  those  of  the  Count 
of  Nassau  nor  of  Madame  d'Albret,  all  of  whom  are 
warned.  We  know  ourselves  now  to  be  keenly 
watched.  The  cardinal,  sulking  in  his  tent  there 
at  Rheims,  in  his  bitter  rage  against  the  peace  has 
now  turned  his  eye  upon  us,  and  close  in  his  coun 
sels  are  his  niece,  Madame  de  Montpensier,  with 
her  strangely  wanton  cruelty,  her  husband,  my 
lady's  father,  and  the  Bishop  of  Angers. 


302 

Oh,  to  flee  away  from  their  dark  and  hateful 
shadow  !  Yet  whither  can  we  flee  ?  We  were  forced 
to  reject  our  one  opportunity.  My  lady's  serene 
patience  and  steadfast  cheerfulness  are  a  marvel. 
I  think  she  keeps  ever  before  her  mind  one  noble 
exemplar. 

Jouarre,  3  August,  1571:  Six  weary  and  anxious 
months  have  passed ;  but  to-day,  at  last,  a  ray  of 
hope  has  pierced  our  convent  wall,  and  truly  by 
a  means  most  unexpected.  This  morning  there 
strayed  into  the  abbey  courtyard  in  the  burning 
sunshine  a  Romany  beggar  woman,  with  her 
swarthy  face,  a  motley  kerchief  tied  on  her  blue- 
black  hair,  a  bright-eyed  marmot  of  a  baby  on  her 
arm,  a  lute  hung  by  a  riband  from  her  shoulder, 
and  a  gay  little  song  to  sing  to  us.  Many  of  the 
sisters  gathered  about  to  hear  her,  and  from  the 
door  of  the  Sainte  Chapelle  Pere  Brodier  stepped 
out  into  the  shadow  of  the  portal  and  stood  looking 
on  coldly  at  our  levity. 

As  she  sang  I  noted  the  woman's  eyes  turned 
oftenest  to  my  face,  and  when  her  song  broke  off 
she  smiled  broadly,  showing  her  white  teeth,  and 
cried  : 

"  Ah,  but  the  young  lady  is  too  pretty  for  a  nun  ! 
Let  me  tell  your  fortune,  mademoiselle,"  and  quite 
to  my  dismay  she  therewith  incontinently  seized 
my  hand,  held  it  fast  in  hers,  lifting  it  close  to  her 
face.  I  struggled  to  be  free,  noting  the  malicious 
smile  on  the  face  of  Sister  Marie  Beauclerc,  who 
would  like  full  well  to  see  me  convicted  of  vanity 
and  indecorum,  and  conscious  as  well  of  the  eyes 
of  Pere  Brodier.  Laughing  blithely  and  quite  un 
disturbed  the  woman  cried  shrilly  : 

"  Ah,  what  is  this  I  read  ?  First  of  all,  your 
name  is  plainly  written  on  your  hand — the  Demoi 
selle  de  Mousson,"  and  she  eyed  me  sharply. 

My  face  turned  red,  and  indeed  I  found  most 


amazing  this  seeming  clairvoyance,  which  in  truth 
was  no  clairvoyance  at  all,  and  a  murmur  of  curi 
osity  and  surprise  ran  around. 

Little  minded  to  furnish  so  doubtful  amusement 
for  an  idle  hour  I  frowned,  and  with  a  strong  effort 
snatched  my  hand  from  the  woman's  brown  fingers. 

"Fie  on  you,  mademoiselle,"  she  cried  shrilly, 
as  springing  away  into  the  center  of  the  group,  and 
touching  the  strings  of  her  lute,  she  broke  out  into 
another  song. 

But  in  my  hand  I  found  she  had,  quite  unseen, 
left  a  small,  close  roll  of  paper.  I  tossed  the  woman 
a  coin,  but  feigning  offended  dignity  and  displeas 
ure,  hastened  from  the  court  and  sought  the  refec 
tory,  which  I  found  deserted.  There  I  made  haste 
to  unroll  the  tiny  note.  On  one  side  of  the  paper 
were  scrawled  faintly  the  characters,  much  faded  by 
contact  with  the  woman's  palm  : 

To  the  Lady  ofjovis  ara. 
On  the  other  side  were  the  words: 

"  The  court  is  at  Liimigney.  Hasten  thither  for 
good  reason.  N." 

Much  excited  I  sought  my  lady,  noting  in  the  way 
that  the  Romany  woman  was  slowly  departing  from 
the  court.  Blurred  and  dim  as  was  the  writing, 
we  recognized  it  on  the  instant  to  be  that  of  the 
gallant  Count  of  Nassau.  We  knew  already  that 
the  king  and  queen-mother  were  at  their  castle 
near  Fontenay-en-Brie  for  a  week  of  hunting.  On 
the  moment  ourdecision  was  made. 

Throughout  the  day,  the  incident  of  the  Romany 
woman  quite  forgot  by  all  save  ourselves,  my  lady 
has  spoken  freely  of  her  desire,  if  the  weather  be 
not  too  warm,  to  do  her  devoir  in  a  visit  to  the 
queen-mother,  whom  she  had  not  seen  since  the 
"affair  of  Meaux,"  she  being  now  so  near  us  as 


304 

Fontenay.  She  has  discussed  the  project  freely 
with  Sister  Marie  Beauclerc,  who  is  strangely  like 
Cecile  Crue,  and  whose  opinion  she  feigned  to  de 
sire  as  to  the  time  required  for  the  ride  to  Fonte 
nay.  Sister  Marie  warmly  approves  the  excursion. 
So  then  at  four  in  the  afternoon,  which  is  but  an 
hour  hence,  with  Jeannette  Vassetz  and  four  of  our 
men  for  escort,  we  shall  set  forth  for  Fontenay, 
wondering  much  what  shall  there  befall  us. 

Lumigney -en-Erie,  4  August,  7577 :  Blessings  on 
the  black-eyed  Romany  woman  !  She  did  us  the 
goodliest  service  and  most  deftly  too  she  did  it ! 

We  found  ourselves  abundantly  welcomed  on  our 
arrival  at  this  castle  late  last  evening  by  Queen 
Catharine,  who  professed  to  have  been  hurt  that 
her  dear  little  Bourbon  cousine  had  not  sooner  rid 
den  over  to  pay  her  compliments.  The  king  in  his 
dull,  languid  fashion  was  most  gracious  also  to  my 
lady,  but  far  more  to  us  at  the  moment  than  royal 
favor  was  it  to  find  at  the  castle  and  on  the  friend 
liest  footing  with  their  majesties,  and  watching 
eagerly  for  our  coming,  the  Count  of  Nassau  and 
our  good  friends  the  Chevalier  de  la  Noue  and  de 
Teligny. 

My  lady,  who  had  brought  with  her  a  court  dress 
of  white  satin  embroidered  with  silver  and  pearls, 
attended  the  queen-mother  at  a  banquet  in  the  cas 
tle  hall  at  a  late  hour  last  evening,  looking  a  very 
queen  herself  in  her  fair  and  stately  beauty,  with 
but  her  white  nun's  wimple  and  the  ring  on  her 
forefinger  to  mark  her  as  religieuse,  and  these 
methinks,  with  her  gentle  loftiness  do  but  render 
her  the  more  enchanting.  The  Princess  Marguerite 
is  in  attendance  on  her  mother.  She  is  dazzlingly 
beautiful,  but  hers  is  the  beauty  of  the  court  lady — 
artificial,  heartless,  and  haughty.  Never  did  Ma 
demoiselle  in  her  grave,  pure  repose  look  lovelier 
than  by  her  side. 


305 

We  hear  a  hint  that,  to  seal  this  present  peace 
beyond  chance  of  rupture,  a  marriage  between  the 
Princess  Marguerite  and  the  son  of  the  Queen  of 
Navarre,  my  old  playmate  Prince  Henri,  is  contem 
plated. 

It  was  midnight  when  I  was  called  to  my  lady's 
room,  and  I  found  her  flushed  with  gladness,  her 
eyes  full  of  light.  She  held  a  letter  in  her  hand. 

"  Jeanne,  my  Jeanne  !  "  she  cried,  her  voice  low 
but  thrilling  with  eagerness,  "  I  have  good  news  to 
bring  thee.  Our  friends  are  working  in  our  behalf. 
So  much  is  certain.  There  is  hope  for  our  speedy 
release.  I  have  had  but  five  minutes  with  Teligny 
alone,  and  less  with  the  Count  of  Nassau,  but  we 
shall  meet  at  the  hunt  to-morrow." 

"And  was  it  really  Count  Louis  who  sent  the 
Romany  woman  to  Jouarre  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Of  a  surety.  He  is  most  delighted  over  the 
success  of  his  little  enterprise,  which  in  sooth  was 
a  somewhat  doubtful  one.  Look,  Jeanne,  what 
Teligny  has  brought  me — this  letter  from  the  Queen 
of  Navarre,  whom  he  left  but  a  few  days  since  at 
La  Rochelle.  Let  us  read  it  together." 

So  our  heads  were  soon  bent  over  the  sheet. 

" Ma  cousine,"  wrote  Her  Majesty,  "/  have  re 
ceived  your  letter  and  am  infinitely  sorry  that  I  am 
unable  to  serve  you  as  I  desire.  I  pray  you  not  to 
doubt  my  affection,  which  can  never  fail  toward  you. 
Your  affair  is  of  such  importance  that  it  would  take 
only  a  small  blunder  to  spoil  everything.  Since  the 
bearer  promises  me  Men  surement  to  convey  my  letter 
to  your  hands,  I  will  now  say  plainly  that  we  find  no 
better  expedient  for  you  than  for  you  to  go  to  Madame 
de  TBouillon,  your  sister  (in  Sedan),  and  thence  to 
Germany,  .  .  later  to  return  to  my  own  country  and 
to  me.  This  is  what  I  infinitely  desire  in  order  to 
show  you  my  affection  and  that  you  are  to  me  as  my 
own  daughter,  for  if  this  plan  shall  succeed  I  shall  be 


306 

able  to  bear  toward  you  the  office  of  mother  in  all  that 
which  concerns  your  dignity  and  happiness  (votre 
grandeur  et  contentment}. 

"It  is  necessary,  ma  cousine,  that  the  plan  shall  be 
carried  out  with  utmost  wisdom  and  secrecy.  I  beg 
you,  by  means  of  Monsieur  de  Teligny,  who  can  be 
relied  upon  to  bring  me  your  letters,  to  tell  me  what 
you  would  desire  me  to  do  in  proof  of  my  love. 

' '  In  this  assurance  I  pray  God,  ma  cousine,  that  he 
will  abundantly  grant  you  of  his  holy  grace. 

"  Your  good  cousin  and  perpetual  friend, 

JEH4NNE."1 

My  lady  kissed  the  letter  over  and  over  with  her 
eyes  brimming  with  tears. 

"  This  gives  us  much  to  think  of,  little  friend," 
she  said,  looking  then  into  my  face.  "  This  is  no 
light  nor  easy  step  for  us  to  take.  How  is  it  ?  Art 
thou  ready  to  hazard  all,  leaving  the  plan  to  be 
worked  out  for  us  by  Madame  d'Albret  and  our 
other  good  friends  ?  Art  thou  strong  enough, 
Jeanne,  to  bear  all  the  dangers,  all  the  poverty, 
the  calumny  and  ill-report  that  our  flight  from 
Jouarre  will  surely  bring  upon  us  ?  Think  now 
before  it  is  too  late  to  draw  back." 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  am  ready,"  I  said  without 
hesitation  ;  "  and  I  know  that  Jeannette  is  also." 

Surely  naught  can  be  harder  to  endure  than  the 
espionage  and  menace  and  religious  bondage  which 
we  now  suffer. 

Lumigney '-en-Brie,  5  August,  1571:  This  morning 
I  alone  of  our  little  party  accompanied  my  lady 
to  the  hunt,  to  which  she  rode  with  her  majesty 
the  queen-mother,  but  only  so  far  as  to  a  lodge  in 
the  heart  of  the  forest  of  Fontenay,  where  break 
fast  was  served. 

1  Letter  of  the  Queen  of  Navarre  to  Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon  from  La 
Rochelle,  July  28.  1571. 


307 

The  Count  of  Nassau  rode  beside  us  through  the 
green  woodland  path.  Methinks  the  war  has  but 
knit  the  firmer  the  supple  grace  of  his  body  and 
quickened  his  buoyant  energy.  An  indescribable 
lustre  is  in  his  eyes  whenever  they  chance  to  rest 
upon  my  lady.  La  Noue  generously  tells  us  that, 
although  a  foreigner  in  France,  the  count  has  be 
come  the  hero  of  the  Huguenot  army,  and,  had 
Coligny  not  recovered  from  his  illness  a  j'ear  ago, 
he  would  without  doubt  have  been  called  to  lead 
the  forces.  Queen  Catharine  is,  it  would  appear, 
enamored  of  the  count's  presence,  and  keeps  him 
continually  at  her  side,  giving  him  the  place  at  her 
right  hand  at  the  table. 

The  Chevalier  de  la  Noue  himself  shows  more 
than  does  Count  Louis  the  ravages  and  rigors  of 
the  war.  He  is  worn  gaunt  from  his  many  months' 
imprisonment,  and  has  a  clumsy  and  wearisome 
device  of  iron  to  replace  the  arm  that  was  shot  off 
at  Fontenay  a  year  ago,  and  which  has  given  him 
the  sobriquet  of  Bras  de  fer.  But  he  bears  himself, 
as  ever,  with  right  soldierly  spirit,  and  all  three  of 
these  gentlemen  stand  at  the  moment  high  in  the 
royal  favor. 

That  they  are  here  for  a  great  State  purpose  it 
needs  not  to  say.  But  my  lady  tells  me  that  she 
learns  that  this  rather  mysterious  conference  is 
held  at  the  instance  of  his  grace  of  Orange  and  in 
his  name  and  in  behalf  of  the  Netherlands. 

The  prince  has  noted  the  change  in  the  temper 
and  disposition  of  the  court,  and  with  his  masterly 
diplomacy  seeks  to  make  swift  use  of  it  to  gain 
their  majesties  wholly  over  to  the  cause  of  his 
people,  which  is  hopeless  without  foreign  aid. 

Four  powerful  motives  may  contribute  to  the  end 
the  prince  so  ardently  seeks,  as  the  Count  of  Nas 
sau  has  told  my  lady  : 

First,  the  king  is  jealous  of  the  warlike  reputa 
tion  of  his  brother,  d'Anjou,  and  wishes  the  dis- 


308 

tinction  of  military  success  for  himself ;  in  fine, 
would  like  to  embark  on  a  new  campaign  wholly  of 
his  own  choosing. 

Second,  to  ensure  the  success  of  such  an  under 
taking  he  must  engage  the  brilliant  leadership  of 
Coligny,  who  has  now  in  this  last  war  abundantly 
proved  himself  the  greatest  military  genius  in 
France.  This  would  bring  the  court  and  the  Hugue 
not  leaders  into  close  relations. 

Third,  Charles  has  conceived  a  deep  distrust  of 
Philip  of  Spain  since  knowing  of  the  treacherous 
plotting  of  the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine  with  Alva, 
while  Queen  Catharine  is  greatly  embittered  by 
the  current  report  that  her  daughter,  consort  of 
Philip,  met  her  death  by  reason  of  poison  adminis 
tered  by  him.  Charles  sees  Spain  growing  too 
powerful,  furthermore,  and  he  is  not  adverse  to 
putting  a  check  upon  its  aggressions  by  opposing 
the  progress  of  Alva  in  the  Netherlands. 

Fourth,  an  alliance  is  now  actively  projected 
between  the  king's  brother,  Monsieur  the  Due 
d'Anjou  and  Queen  Elizabeth  of  England.  This, 
if  it  should  go  through,  would  bring  into  harmony 
England,  the  Protestant  princes  of  Germany,  the 
patriots  of  the  Netherlands  under  the  Nassaus,  and 
France,  a  magnificent  combination,  and  one  which 
my  lady  says  appeals  powerfully  to  the  ambition 
of  Charles.  Apparently  the  queen-mother  favors 
it  also.  If  only  she  could  be  trusted  to  do  to-mor 
row  what  she  promises  to-day  !  If  only  one  could 
read  behind  that  smooth,  ivory  mask  !  If  only  she 
were  either  Catholic  or  Protestant !  She  remem 
bers  me  well,  and  pretends  to  rail  against  the 
Queen  of  Navarre  who  has,  she  says,  spoiled  such 
a  pretty  maid  of  honor  for  her  to  make  a  poor, 
pining  nun,  whose  beauty  is  all  thrown  away  on  a 
lot  of  dull  old  women. 

I  like  her  less  than  ever,  but  I  confess  she  treats 
my  lady  most  affectionately  and  has  given  her  in 


309 

token  of  her  kindness  a  large  mirror  of  rock  crystal, 
framed  in  gold,  set  with  two  diamonds  and  six 
rubies,  the  reverse  being  of  lapis  lazuli  curiously 
engraved,  a  right  royal  gift.  And  now  to  return 
to  our  morning  in  the  forest  of  Fontenay. 

We  came  out  upon  the  terrace  of  the  hunting 
lodge,  breakfast  over,  and  my  lady  strolled  slowly 
down  a  green  alley  between  the  tall  beeches  with 
my  lord  de  Teligny  in  earnest  converse.  He  was 
most  eager  to  seize  this  moment  to  lay  before  her 
the  details  of  his  plan  for  her  departure  from 
Jouarre.  He  wishes  all  to  be  now  laid  in  readiness 
even  to  the  final  signals  by  which  we  shall  act, 
since  we  cannot  hope  again  to  meet  face  to  face 
and  we  dare  not  trust  aught  concerning  our  plans 
to  letters.  Teligny  and  Count  Louis  engage  to 
confer  ere  their  return  to  La  Rochelle  with  the 
Sieur  de  Minay,  at  Meaux,  through  whose  kindly 
offices  my  lady  will  seek  to  sell  her  property  of 
Saint  Christ,  thus  securing  funds  for  our  long  and 
perilous  journey  into  Germany. 

I  had  myself  strayed  down  from  the  terrace 
where  so  much  royalty  oppressed  me  and  had  found 
a  nook  where  a  small  shrine  was  screened  and 
half  enclosed  by  a  clustering  jessamine  thick  with 
blossoms,  when  I  heard  a  light  step  and  there 
stood  in  the  pathway  before  me  the  Romany  woman. 
She  was  gazing  with  a  strange  fixed  look  in  her 
eyes  down  the  path  where  I  could  myself  see  in  the 
long  golden  green  vista  the  charming  figure  of  my 
lady  with  my  lord  de  Teligny  walking  beside  her, 
his  head  bent  toward  her,  her  eyes  lifted  to  his 
face. 

I  do  not  know  whether  the  woman  observed  me 
or  not  in  my  little  nook.  She  appeared  to  take  note 
only  of  those  two  figures.  Something  in  her  face 
gave  me  a  mysterious  thrill  of  dread.  She  saw  what 
I  did  not  see. 

I  held  my  breath  for  now  she  lifted  her  lute  and 


3io 

touched  the  strings  with  slow  languorous  fingers, 
and  with  a  plaintive  voice,  from  which  all  the 
joyance  had  fled  and  with  eyes  still  fixed  upon 
those  two  she  sang  a  strange  little  chanson,  so 
strange  that  I  cannot  forget  it.  It  was  on  this  wise  : 

What  though  she  wear  the  veil  ? 
Full  soon  her  vows  shall  fail, 

Fail  not  her  grace. 
Sharp  speeds  for  him  life's  close. 
Myrtle  for  her  and  rose — 

Yet,  death  apace ! 

Both  whom  they  love  shall  wed. 
Death  haunt  the  bridal-bed, — 

Fetch-lights  burn  ever ! 
Mark  how  the  lady's  knight 
Knight's  lady  then  shall  plight! 
Death  shall  their  hands  unite, 

Death  quickly  sever ! 

While  she  sang  the  last  few  words  the  Romany 
woman  turned  her  eyes  slowly  and  fixed  them 
upon  me,  then  without  a  word  looked  again  at  the 
two  forms  far  down  in  the  flickering  shade.  Was  it 
a  fancy,  a  delusion,  a  dream  ? — what  was  it  ?  As  I 
too  looked  fixedly  at  the  twain  I  saw  on  either  side 
another  figure — dim,  shadowy,  wraith-like — by  my 
lady  there  seemed  to  walk  a  knight  in  armor,  by 
my  lord  de  Teligny  the  shape  of  a  woman,  wringing 
her  hands. 

For  a  moment  then  I  saw  nothing,  for  all  grew 
black  around  me.  When  I  opened  my  eyes  the 
Romany  woman  was  nowhere  in  sight,  but  vanished 
in  the  woods  like  some  wild  thing,  and  my  lady  was 
there  and  was  saying  : 

"  Jeanne,  my  girl,  I  have  spied  you  here  in  your 
hiding-place.  Why  do  you  stare  so  with  great, 
frightened  eyes,  and  why  is  your  face  so  pale  ? 
Have  you  been  dreaming  ?  Waken  then  and  give 
joy  to  my  lord  de  Teligny.  He  has  told  me  as  we 


came  hither  that  he  is  about  to  marry  the  lovely 
Demoiselle  de  Coligny,  daughter  of  the  admiral." 

As  she  spoke  my  lady  looked  like  a  creature  of 
life  and  joy,  and  upon  the  face  of  my  lord  was  a 
proud  though  gentle  gladness,  and  all  his  mien  in 
stinct  with  youthful  vigor.  No  shadow  of  death 
could  I  see  on  either  face. 

What  meant  that  mysterious,  ill-omened  song  ? 
Would  God  I  had  never  heard  it !  And  yet  it  was 
but  the  random  rhyming  of  a  wandering  Romany 
wench.  I  will  think  of  it  no  more. 


XXVIII 
SEVEN  DUTCH  BULBS 

ON   the   first   Friday   in   February,    being    the 
fourth  day  of  the  month,  Mass  being  just 
over,  the  Abbess  of  Jouarre  was  met  in  the 
calefactory  by  one  who  said  that  the  gardener's 
man  Harlay,  from  Meaux,  was  waiting  in  the  cloister 
with  tulip  bulbs  which  he  had  brought  her. 

It  was  one  of  those  February  days  when  spring 
bids  fair  to  come  before  her  time,  when  pools  of 
water  on  the  pavements  reflect  a  sky  blue  as  sum 
mer,  and  there  is  soft  relenting  in  the  air,  and  a 
greening  of  the  willow  branches  by  the  river. 

Charlotte  de  Bourbon  hastened  to  the  cloister  as 
if  the  tulip  bulbs  were  very  welcome,  with  their 
speaking  of  spring,  and  with  her  came  a  little  bevy 
of  nuns,  and  others  were  strolling  under  the  gray 
arches  enjoying  the  balm  of  the  air. 

There  on  the  worn  stone  pavement  stood  the 
gardener's  man  from  Meaux,  a  quaint,  bent  little 
varlet,  in  leathern  breeches  and  a  dingy  doublet, 
scraping  and  bowing  and  touching  his  forelock  to 
Mademoiselle. 

She  greeted  him  graciously  by  name,  as  he  had 
been  on  many  an  errand  to  Jouarre  from  his  master, 
and  Sister  Marie  Beauclerc  thought  afterward  that 
she  could  remember  an  unwonted  excitement  in  her 
manner,  and  that  her  hands  trembled  slightly  as  she 
received  the  bulbs. 

"  Here  they  are,  madame,  come  all  the  way  from 
Holland,"  the  man  said,  taking  them  one  by  one 
from  his  inner  doublet.     "  I  have  kept  them  warm 
and  good.     They  will  blossom  in  the  spring." 
312 


"Was  it  a  fancy,  a  delusion,  a  dream?— what  was  it?" 

Page  310 


313 

"  How  many  have  you  brought  me,  Harlay  ?  " 
asked  Mademoiselle. 

"Seven  only,  madame,"  and  he  counted  them 
out  into  her  hand — "une,  deux,  trois,  quatre,  cinq, 
six,  sept — voilti!  That  is  all  my  master  had  this 
time,  but  they  are  rare  ones." 

"  You  are  sure  he  sent  seven  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  was  to  say  that  he  would  not  mix  them 
to  send  your  highness  any  of  inferior  kind.  He  is 
most  desirous  that  these  may  please  madame  la 
princesse." 

"Very  gladly  will  I  take  these,  tell  your  mas 
ter,"  was  Mademoiselle's  reply  ;  "  and  I  will  pay  the 
price.  Will  you  tell  him  that  this  is  my  word  ?  " 

"  That  will  I,  your  reverence." 

"Remember!" 

Mademoiselle  then  returned  to  the  calefactory 
with  the  sisters,  all  most  anxious  to  examine  the 
little  colorless  bulbs,  so  much  like  onions,  which 
could  produce  such  brilliant  and  queenly  blossoms, 
and  none  seemed  more  interested  than  the  abbess 
herself. 

On  the  way  to  the  refectory  an  hour  later  for  din 
ner,  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  stone  passage,  she  met 
Jeanne  de  Mousson,  who  had  but  then  returned 
from  an  errand  to  Jouarre. 

"The  bulbs  have  come,"  said  Charlotte  quite 
carelessly.  "Seven,  Jeanne." 

The  bright  color  of  the  Bearnaise  maiden  grew 
deeper  and  her  dark  eyes  flashed. 

"  Monday,  then,  is  to  be  the  day  !  "  she  said 
softly.  "  What  did  you  say,  Mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  I  said,  '  /  will  pay  the  price.'  ' 

Jeanne  de  Mousson  put  out  her  hand  in  the  dark 
ness  and  gave  that  of  her  mistress  an  ardent  pres 
sure. 

"  If  you  had  said,  the  price  is  too  high,  my  lady, 
you  would  have  broken " 

"  No  matter,  Jeanne,"  interrupted  Mademoiselle, 


314 

hastening  on  to  the  refectory  ;  "  the  price  is  cer 
tainly  high,  but  when  we  see  the  blossoms  I  am 
sure  we  shall  not  regret  it.  Have  you  found  those 
glasses  yet  for  the  bulbs,  Radegonde  ?  "  for  the  old 
nun  had  joined  them  now. 

"  Yes,  my  lady,  and  I  have  set  them  in  the  sun 
shine." 

"When  they  bloom,  sister "but  with  the 

word  the  lady  broke  off,  leaving  Radegonde  much 
perplexed  at  the  wistful  smile  on  her  lips. 

This  was  on  Friday,  which  was  the  fourth  of 
February  in  the  year  of  grace  1572. 

On  Monday  morning,  at  an  early  hour,  being  the 
seventh,  the  Princess  de  Bourbon,  with  the  demoi 
selles  de  Mousson  and  Vassetz,  prepared  to  start 
from  Jouarre  on  a  long  anticipated  visit  to  the 
cousin  of  her  highness,  the  abbess  of  the  monastery 
of  the  Paraclete,  at  Nogent-sur-Seine,  the  ancient 
shrine  of  Heloise.  With  them  as  escort  from  the 
abbey  went  five  men  :  Loys  Lambinot,  who  had 
been  longest  in  the  convent  ;  Petit,  Parent,  Leroy, 
and  Conches.  The  visit  was  of  uncertain  dura 
tion.  It  might  be  for  two  weeks,  it  might  be  for 
even  longer.  Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon  was  de 
votedly  attached  to  Madeline  de  Long-Vic,  abbess 
of  the  Paraclete,  and  it  had  now  been  a  year  since 
they  had  met. 

Very  early  that  same  morning,  in  the  hours  be 
fore  she  set  forth,  at  the  close  of  the  sunrise  service 
of  lauds,  the  young  abbess  lingered,  kneeling  in 
the  Sainte  Chapelle  when  all  others  had  left  it. 

In  her  white  conventual  robe,  fastened  with  a 
silken  cord  at  her  waist,  her  white  veil  falling  all 
about  her,  the  lady  knelt  long  on  the  steps  of  the 
choir  in  the  hush  and  dimness  of  the  place.  The 
first  rays  of  the  sun  even  then  began  to  touch  the 
stained  windows  into  radiance  and  to  cast  their 
gleams  of  color  through  the  gloom. 

As  she  knelt,  Charlotte  de  Bourbon   bent   her 


315 

"head  even  to  the  stones  of  the  choir  steps  and 
pressed  them  with  her  lips.  Then  there  was  a 
light  step  and  Jeanne  deMousson  came  to  her  side. 
She  rose,  then  held  out  her  hand  to  Jeanne  and 
whispered  low,  her  lips  trembling  and  tears  on  her 
lashes: 

"I  am  ready,  little  friend.  It  must  suffice.  But, 
oh,  Jeanne  !  it  is  the  last  time,  and,  after  all,  it  has 
been  the  only  home  I  have  ever  known.  If  I  only 
dared  weep  !  " 

''You  must  not,  dear  lady,  indeed,"  whispered 
Jeanne  anxiously.  "  Tears  would  betray  every 
thing.  Pere  Brodier  is  even  now  coming  back  into 
the  choir." 

Charlotte  grew  calm  at  the  sight  of  the  priest, 
whose  footfalls  were  so  light  that  he  had  nearly 
reached  them  quite  unheard. 

With  a  word  of  greeting  the  two  now  passed  out 
by  the  south  transept  door,  but  as  Charlotte  left 
the  Sainte  Chapelle  she  laid  her  white  hand  in  a 
lingering  caress  on  the  cold,  rough  stones  of  its 
wall. 

"Adieu,"  she  breathed  so  low  that  only  the 
walls  heard  her. 

Then  in  her  room,  with  old  Radegonde  to  wait 
upon  her,  the  Abbess  of  Jouarre  laid  aside  her  white 
robe  and  veil  for  the  black  traveling  habit  of  her 
order  and  the  long  blue  cloak,  ermine  lined  and 
ermine  hooded,  which  expressed  her  degree  and 
rank. 

Radegonde,  as  she  served  her  lady,  noted  that 
she  trembled,  and  was  of  a  strange  pallor. 

"Dearest  lady,  are  you  not  well  ?  "  she  cried, 
anxiously. 

"Well  ?  Oh,  yes,  quite  well,  Radegonde.  Kiss 
me.  Again.  Hold  me  close,  as  you  did  when  I  was 
a  child.  I  love  you  so." 

Amazed  at  her  emotion,  the  old  nun  pleaded  to 
know  its  cause. 


3i6 

"It  might  be,"  said  her  lady,  "that  I  should  fall 
into  danger  on  this  journey,  and  not  come  back  to 
you.  The  land  is  full  of  bands  of  marauders  and 
wild  soldiers  who  know  not  how  to  turn  to  the  pur 
suits  of  peace.  Who  can  tell  what  might  befall 
even  on  the  way  to  the  Paraclete  ?  One  must 
think  of  such  things.  Kiss  me  once  more.  How 
dear  and  true  you  are,  Radegonde.  Pray  for  me 
always.  Farewell,  dear  old  friend." 

So  she  ran  down  the  stairway  from  her  hall, 
casting  a  glance  as  she  left  it  at  the  old  Abbess  of 
Jouarre  above  the  fireplace,  and  Radegonde  noted 
the  tremulous,  anxious  smile  that  went  with  the 
glance.  There  in  the  court  below  were  her  two 
Jeannes  in  their  long  black  nun's  cloaks,  waiting 
her  coming. 

From  the  path  down  to  the  offices  beyond  the 
hall  of  the  abbess  came  the  sound  of  hoofs  on  the 
softened  earth,  for  the  mild  weather  held  yet,  and 
up  rode  the  little  company  of  horsemen,  and  those 
who  came  before  led  each  a  small,  stout-limbed 
jennet. 

All  the  nuns  had  gathered  at  the  gate  and  with 
them  stood  Pere  Brodier.  To  him  Mademoiselle 
said  sedately  : 

"  Guard  well  the  flock  while  I  am  gone  ;  and  Sis 
ter  Marie  Beauclerc,  kindly  open  all  letters  which 
come  to  the  Abbess  of  Jouarre  in  my  absence.  I 
empower  you  to  act  in  this  matter,  knowing  you 
will  be  faithful." 

So  gently  was  this  spoken  that  even  the  old  nun 
herself  failed  to  see  the  touch  of  gentle  irony  which 
underlay  the  lady's  words.  Far  less  did  she  dream 
that  there  was  nothing  more  now  for  Charlotte  de 
Bourbon  to  fear  from  the  spies  of  her  entourage. 

Then  Mademoiselle  kissed  all  her  nuns  kindly, 
with  tender  words  of  blessing,  for  all  were  dear  to 
her  and  she  so  beloved  by  them  that  this  short  ab 
sence  seemed  to  them  an  affliction.  Her  bearing 


317 

was  firm  now  and  full  of  spirit,  no  tears  dimming 
her  eyes,  but  rather  were  they  overbright  and  a 
high  color  burned  in  her  cheeks.  ;  :| 

As  the  little  procession  passed  out  at  length 
through  the  gray  abbey  gateway  in  the  morning 
sun,  the  aged  porter  dropped  on  his  knees  murmur 
ing  his  blessing,  and  old  Radegonde,  watching  with 
weary  eyes,  caught  the  last  fond  look  which  her 
adored  lady  turned  to  cast  behind  her. 

And  so  they  galloped  on  to  Montmirail,  near 
thirty  miles  eastward,  the  first  stage  of  the  journey 
to  the  Abbey  du  Paraclete,  at  Nogent,  but  also  the 
first  stage  of  a  far  different  journey. 

At  the  Auberge  de  St.  Omer  in  Montmirail,  Ma 
demoiselle  and  her  ladies  dismounted  and  entered  a 
private  dining  room.  The  landlady  of  the  inn,  over 
come  with  delight  at  the  honor  of  serving  the  Ab 
bess  of  Jouarre,  had  hardly  hastened  from  the  room 
to  prepare  a  meal  worthy  of  her  great  visitors  when 
Francois  and  Georges  d'Averly,  the  Sieurs  de  Minay, 
quietly  entered  and  the  door  was  shut. 

Both  of  these  gentlemen  bore  the  air  of  highest 
satisfaction  mingled  with  eager  solicitude  for  the 
welfare  of  Mademoiselle. 

"  Thus  far  all  goes  well,"  said  Francois,  the  elder, 
Mademoiselle's  devout  instructor  in  the  Bible  and 
the  new  faith.  "  Our  Dutch  bulbs  blossomed  fully 
and  in  due  time.  Did  the  signal  give  you  space  to 
prepare  for  your  departure  ?  " 

"Quite  enough,  monsieur,"  said  the  lady.  "I 
confess  I  had  had  many  doubts  of  the  value  of  so 
fantastic  a  signal,  but  nothing  could  have  been  sim 
pler  nor  safer.  Poor  Harlay's  complete  ignorance 
of  his  own  mission,  and  of  the  significance  of  the 
number  of  his  bulbs,  ensured  success." 

"  But  you  have  waited  and  watched  for  those 
same  Dutch  bulbs,  few  or  many,  month  after 
month.  Better  speed  we  could  not  make,  but  I 
fear  it  has  seemed  long  ?  " 


3i8 

"Long,  indeed,  and  yet  now,  all  too  short,"  said 
Mademoiselle  with  a  deep  sigh.  "  1  had  not  thought 
it  had  been  so  hard." 

"We  had  been  looking,  monsieur,"  said  Jean- 
nette  Vassetz,  whose  wonted  demureness  was  sud 
denly  transformed  into  vivacity  by  the  sense  of 
adventure,  "for  twenty  bulbs  to  come,  or  even 
thirty,  as  each  month  advanced,  and  feared  a  slip 
in  so  large  a  number,  and  then  confusion  and  all 
going  amiss.  But  when  Harlay  said  with  such  em- 
pressement  that  his  master  could  send  but  seven,  we 
felt  no  further  misgiving." 

A  lively  but  brief  discussion  of  the  simple  cipher 
employed  followed. 

"  All  your  friends  are  deeply  concerned  for  the 
success  of  this  present  venture,"  said  the  Sieur  de 
Minay  presently.  "  Captain  Tontorf,  who  will  still 
be  known  as  Roubichon,  if  you  please,  awaits  us 
outside  the  east  gate  with  five  picked  German 
reiters  whom  the  Count  of  Nassau  has  sent  you 
from  La  Rochelle,  from  his  own  immediate  follow 
ers.  This  packet  is  from  Madame  d'Albret,"  and 
he  put  a  letter  into  the  lady's  hand.  "  The  Cheva 
lier  de  la  Noue  and  Count  Louis  send  you  their 
most  devoted  wishes  and  sincere  regrets  that  it  is 
impossible  for  them  to  leave  La  Rochelle  at  this 
juncture.  Teligny  and  his  bride  wish  you  good 
speed  and  joy.  Coligny  is  at  court  urging  forward 
the  two  great  reconciling  movements,  the  marriage 
of  the  Princess  Marguerite  with  Prince  Henri  of 
Navarre  and  the  war  in  Flanders.  The  latter  pro 
ject  gives  the  Count  of  Nassau  much  of  delicate 
State  business  at  this  time,  and  the  other  gentle 
men  must  needs  ride  back  and  forth  from  the  Queen 
of  Navarre  to  the  queen-mother  continually  in  the 
furtherance  of  the  former." 

"  Is  Madame  d'Albret  more  favorable  to  this  mar 
riage  for  her  son  than  at  first  ?  "  asked  Charlotte 
quickly. 


"She  is  yielding,  Teligny  writes  me,  to  the  ar 
guments  of  Coligny,  albeit  ever  with  a  strange,  in 
vincible  sadness  and  reluctance.  The  admiral  as 
sures  her  it  will  be  '  the  seal  of  friendship  with  the 
king '  and  thus  make  for  a  sure  and  stable  peace, 
and  Charles  himself  declares,  '  /  shall  give  Margot 
to  my  good  cousin  Henri  of  Bourbon,  since  by  this 
means  I  shall  marry  not  only  them  but  the  two  relig 
ions."1 

"That  sounds  most  hopeful  and  reasonable," 
said  Charlotte  thoughtfully.  "How  goes  forward 
the  other  scheme,  for  the  war  in  Flanders  ?  " 

"  The  discussion  of  it  is  conducted  with  utmost 
secrecy  but  Count  Louis  is  convinced  of  the  sin 
cerity  and  resolution  of  Charles  in  the  matter.  It 
is  safe  to  trust  him  to  put  these  promptly  to  the 
test,  we  may  be  sure.  Yes,  dear  Mademoiselle, 
the  future  of  our  holy  cause  seems  bright  with 
promise.  Truly,  it  is  my  ardent  hope  and  belief 
that  there  will  soon  be  such  mutual  confidence  that 
you  may  even  return  from  Heidelberg  in  all  honor 
and  comfort  to  grace  this  Navarrese  marriage." 

Charlotte,  thinking  of  the  bitter  wrath  which 
her  flight  from  Jouarre  would  stir  in  the  mind  of 
her  father,  shook  her  head  sadly,  but  Jeanne  de 
Mousson  clapped  her  hands  softly  with  a  low  laugh 
of  irrepressible  delight. 

"  To  dance  at  the  marriage  of  my  old  playmate, 
Prince  Henri,  and  the  Princess  Margot — ah  that 
would  be  a  very  miracle  of  joy  !  "  and  she  snatched 
the  hand  of  Jeannette  Vassetz,  who  in  her  quiet  way 
was  no  less  full  of  excitement,  crying,  "  Oh,  Jean 
nette,  Jeannette  !  truly  we  are  to  be  free  !  " 

The  Sieur  de  Minay,  strict  Calvinist  as  he  was, 
looked  with  some  surprise  at  the  maiden  whose 
Gascon  blood  was  aglow  with  a  gay  audacity  in 
strange  contrast  with  her  severe  and  sombre  garb 
and  the  seriousness  of  their  situation,  and  Charlotte 
made  haste  to  ask  : 


32O 

"  And  how  do  you  plan  to  overcome  the  next 
difficulties  in  our  way,  monsieur  ?  " 

"The  most  serious  one  just  before  us  is  the 
management  of  your  own  escort,  Mademoiselle. 
To  send  them  back  to  Jouarre  is  plainly  impossible, 
and  moreover,  we  need  every  man  of  them.  When 
we  leave  Montmirail  it  will  no  longer  be  possible 
to  sustain  the  appearance  of  journeying  to  Nogent, 
as  we  must  strike  at  once  into  the  Epernay  road. 
The  men  must,  therefore,  be  at  least  in  part  made 
acquainted  with  our  real  destination.  Can  you 
trust  them  ?  " 

"I  think  so,  I  believe  so,"  said  Charlotte  with 
some  anxiety  ;  "at  least  I  could  choose  none  bet 
ter." 

Dinner  being  over  and  the  short  February  after 
noon  well  advanced,  the  whole  company  again 
mounted,  galloped  down  the  street  of  the  ancient 
and  sleepy  little  town,  and  passed  through  the  east 
gate. 

Here,  after  a  short  half-mile,  at  the  point  where 
the  road  to  Epernay  diverges  from  that  to  the 
south,  they  came  in  sight  of  Tontorf  and  his  five 
well-mounted  reiters,  armed  with  halberds  which 
glittered  in  the  winter  sunshine. 

Tontorf  rode  back  to  meet  and  salute  the  company 
and  pay  his  respects  to  Mademoiselle  and  her  ladies. 
After  a  few  moments  of  discussion,  the  Sieur  de 
Minay,  turning  to  Loys  Lambinot  and  the  men 
who  had  ridden  with  him  from  Jouarre,  said  : 

"  My  men,  her  highness,  owing  to  certain  ad 
vices  which  we  have  brought  her,  finds  it  wise  to 
delay  yet  a  little  her  visit  to  the  Paraclete.  Our 
attendance  being  offered  her  for  a  little  time  she 
thinks  it  better  to  avail  herself  of  so  goodly  an 
escort  and  the  fine  weather  and  proceed  on  her  way 
to  Sedan,  the  residence  of  Madame  la  Comtesse  de 
Bouillon,  her  sister.  You  will  have  a  longer  dis 
tance  to  traverse,  but  the  return  to  Jouarre  will 


321 

be  no   later  than  was  purposed.  Forward,  then,  all 
together.     We  must  sleep  in  Vertus  to-night." 

Then  speaking  low  to  Mademoiselle  he  added  : 

"  Rheims  to-morrow  night,  Sedan  and  safety  in 
two  days  more,  if  it  please  God." 

"  Rheims,"  murmured  Charlotte;  "  is  it  impos 
sible  to  avoid  that  city  ?  There  sits  the  Cardinal 
de  Lorraine,  like  a  spider  in  his  web.  Dear  Mon 
sieur  d'Averly,  I  fear  me  greatly  to  go  thither ;  it 
is  to  march  straight  into  the  clutches  of  the  en 
emy." 

"  Is  your  person  known  to  the  cardinal  or  to  those 
of  his  household  ?  " 

"  Not  to  himself,  but  to  his  niece,  the  wife  of  my 
father,  who  is  not,  however,  likely  to  be  in  Rheims." 

"I  beg  you,  dear  madame," — it  was  Tontorf, 
riding  on  the  other  side  of  the  lady,  who  spoke, — 
"  do  not  let  this  alarm  you.  We  will  enter  Rheims 
after  nightfall  and  leave  at  daybreak.  There  need 
be  no  cause  for  alarm." 

This  hopeful  prophecy  seemed  justified  by  events. 
The  company  was  apparently  united  and  well  or 
ganized,  no  man  murmuring  at  the  longer  journey 
nor  showing  suspicion  regarding  the  sudden  change 
of  plan.  The  champaign  country  was  safely  trav 
ersed,  the  Marne  crossed  at  Epernay  and,  toward 
dusk  of  the  second  day,  the  famous  old  city  of 
Rheims,  in  its  wide,  arid  plain,  was  reached. 

In  a  decent  but  obscure  inn  just  within  the  city 
wall,  and  at  a  safe  remove  from  the  palace  of  the 
great  Guise  cardinal,  accommodation  was  found  for 
Mademoiselle  and  her  company.  When  she  retired 
to  her  room  Charlotte  went  to  the  window,  and 
looked  out  upon  the  sleeping,  moonlit  city,  above 
which  rose  the  airy  twin  towers  of  the  great  cathe 
dral. 

As  she  looked,  the  joyous  thrilling  clang  and 
clamor  of  le  gros  Bourdon  filled  the  air  with  its  thun 
dering  vibrations. 

v 


322 

"Jeannette,"  she  said,  stepping  back  involun 
tarily  from  the  window,  "  we  may  be  able  to  escape 
the  cardinal's  eyes,  but  not  his  voice.  Do  you 
know  the  legend  on  that  bell  ?  Monsieur  Tontorf 
told  me  an  hour  since: 

"  '  /  am  Charlotte,  so  named  by  Monseigneur  the 
most  illustrious  Charles  Cardinal  of  Lorraine,  Arch 
bishop  and  Duke  of  Rheims,  first  Peer  of  France,  and 
the  most  illustrious  Lady  Renee  of  Lorraine,  Abbess  of 
Saint  Peter  of  the  said  Rheims,  his  sister.  Pierre 
Deschamps,  native  of  Rheims,  made  me.' ' 

"I  could  e'en  wish,"  cried  Jeanne  de  Mousson, 
looking  up  at  the  cathedral  towers,  "that  the  said 
Pierre  Deschamps  had  given  you  a  less  uproarious 
clapper,  that  so  we  might  have  better  chance  to 
sleep  !  " 

''How  think  you,  dearest  Mademoiselle,"  asked 
Jeannette  Vassetz  anxiously,  when  silence  fell, 
"shall  we  really  sleep  in  Sedan  at  the  castle  of 
Mademoiselle's  sister  on  Thursday  night  with  no 
more  fear  and  dread  ?  " 

"  I  believe  it,  ma  petite,"  was  her  lady's  cheerful 
answer.  "  O  Franchise  !  "  she  cried  with  a  sud 
den  outburst  of  joy,  "shall  I  in  very  truth  look 
in  your  dear  face  again  so  soon  ?  When  once  we 
are  safely  out  of  Rheims  even  such  grace  will  seem 
possible  !  " 

When  the  morning  came  it  brought  a  chill  and 
dismal  rain.  The  ladies,  however,  mounted  with 
good  courage  and  the  little  cavalcade  was  speedily 
set  in  motion,  when  to  the  discomfiture  and  alarm 
of  all,  it  was  discovered  that  Loys  Lambinot  was 
missing. 


XXIX 
MY  LADY'S  CLOAK 

A  HURRIED  council  of  war  was  held  just  out 
side  the  eastern  gate  of  Rheims. 

Sharp  misgiving  smote  Norbert  as  he  now 
for  the  first  time  recalled  a  dim  memory  of  the  name 
of  Lambinot  as  that  of  the  treacherous  servant 
from  Jouarre  encountered  by  his  father,  Nikolaas 
Tontorf,  years  before. 

A  stern  inquiry  among  the  men  from  Jouarre 
showed  them  honestly  ignorant  of  Lambinot's 
whereabouts  and  unaware  of  any  treachery  in  his 
intention. 

Suspicious  circumstances  were,  however,  pro 
duced  by  Parent,  who  stated  that  when  they  were 
dining  in  the  room  of  the  inn,  late  the  previous  night, 
Lambinot  had  laid  him  a  wager  that  the  Abbess  of 
Jouarre  would  never  return  to  the  convent.  He 
had  asked  Parent  then  if  he  had  observed  that 
Mademoiselle  had  not  dismounted  to  worship  at  the 
sacrosanct  image  of  Our  Lady  nailed  to  the  famous 
oak  tree,  as  they  came  through  the  forest  between 
Epernay  and  Rheims. 

Parent  had  paid  his  own  devotions  and  had  not 
thought  it  his  business  to  mind  what  his  betters  did. 
No  wonder  Mademoiselle  did  not  choose  to  kneel  in 
the  mud. 

Lambinot  had  then  further  confided  to  him  that 
from  one  of  the  German  reiters  he  had  learned  that 
they  at  least  were  bound  for  Heidelberg,  not  merely 
Sedan.  Whether  her  ladyship  would  proceed  be 
yond  Sedan  was  unknown  to  them,  and  none  of 
their  concern. 

323 


324 

At  this,  so  Parent  deposed,  he  had  become  im 
patient  and  told  Lambinot  that  he  was  the  worse 
for  the  wine  he  had  taken.  What  on  earth  could 
possess  Mademoiselle  to  go  to  Heidelberg  ?  She 
was  more  likely  to  go  to  Jerusalem.  The  gossip 
was  too  wild  to  be  interesting  and  he  had  there 
with  betaken  himself  to  bed  in  the  stable  loft,  and 
had  supposed  Lambinot  had  done  the  same.  In 
the  morning  he  failed  to  appear,  and  his  horse  was 
likewise  missing.  His  cloak,  however,  he  had  left 
behind  him.  This  being  a  part  of  his  livery  as  a 
retainer  of  the  Abbey  of  Jouarre  and  bearing  its 
blazon,  Norbert  himself,  for  prudential  reasons,  as 
sumed  in  place  of  his  own,  borrowing  the  hat  of 
Parent,  to  whom  he  gave  in  exchange  a  small  furred 
cap. 

"I  will  wear  your  livery  to-day,  Mademoiselle," 
he  said  gallantly,  "the  better  to  defend  you." 

They  were  riding  slowly  eastward,  the  towers 
and  walls  of  Rheims  looming  large  through  the  fog 
and  rain  behind  them. 

"  Then  do  you  apprehend  some  danger  from  this 
desertion  of  Lambinot,  captain  ?  "  asked  the  Sieur 
de  Minay. 

"  I  apprehend  that  the  fellow  has  started  to  give 
the  alarm  of  Mademoiselle's  departure  from  Jou 
arre,"  replied  Norbert,  "  either  to  the  Due,  her 
father,  in  Auvergne,  or  to  the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine 
in  Rheims,  hoping  for  reward." 

Startled  looks  greeted  this  brief  statement. 

"The  latter  is  far  the  more  probable,"  said 
Georges  d'Averly.  "  Lambinot  could  hardly  dream 
of  going  to  Auvergne.  He  would  have  no  means 
at  his  disposal  for  such  a  journey." 

"  I  cannot  believe  that  Lambinot  would  go  him 
self  to  the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine,"  said  Mademoi 
selle.  "  He  would  not  have  the  courage  nor  the 
audacity.  In  any  case,  messieurs,  we  are  safer 
outside  than  inside  the  walls  of  Rheims.  Let  us 


325 

gallop  forward  and  make  up  for  lost  time.  It  is  too 
Sate  to  go  back  !  " 

"  Courage  !  Bravo  !  "  cried  Tontorf.  "Allans!  " 

Through  the  morning  hours  they  rode  steadily 
onward  through  the  pelting  rain. 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  Lambinot  nor  any  of  his 
kind,"  said  Jeanne  to  Norbert,  who  rode  at  noon 
beside  her.  "Surely  he  would  not  dare  attack 
us." 

"  There  are  those  abroad  who  would,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  But  we  have  still  eleven  good  men  and  true  to 
defend  us,"  said  Jeanne  ;  "  and  I  can  use  a  pistol 
myself  on  a  pinch.  That  I  learned  to  do  long  since 
in  my  girlhood  in  the  mountains  of  Beam." 

"We  will  give  you  one  to  wear  in  your  belt, 
mademoiselle,"  said  Norbert,  and  therewith  handed 
her  a  small  pistol  of  his  own.  The  girl  fastened  it 
into  her  belt  with  a  bright,  spirited  smile  and  nod 
which  set  Norbert's  heart  beating  much  more  ir 
regularly  than  had  the  defection  of  Lambinot. 

"A  nun  carrying  pistols  in  her  belt!"  she  ex 
claimed  under  her  breath.  "  Praise  be  to  the  saints 
I  can  soon  have  done  with  these  stiff  and  tiresome 
swathings  and  the  perpetual  black  gown.  I  was 
never  meant  for  a  nun,  good  Captain  Roubichon, 
and  I  believe  I  shall  be  far  more  pious  out  of  the 
convent  than  in  it." 

"You  have  not  liked  the  life  ?  "  asked  Norbert 
gravely,  riding  a  little  closer  to  her  side. 

"  I  have  been  happy  in  a  way  because  I  loved 
my  lady  so  dearly.  But  Madame  d'Albret — you 
have  seen  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  seen  her  when  she  stood  before  the  army 
after  Jarnac  and  offered  the  soldiers  her  son  and 
Conde's.  I  shall  never  forget  the  sight  of  her  that 
day." 

"She  must  have  been  magnificent." 

"  The  men  cheered  her  until  it  seemed  as  if  they 


326 

would  split  the  very  heavens.  She  put  new  life- 
and  courage  into  the  whole  army." 

"She  puts  new  life  into  every  one,  and  so  she- 
has  into  me.-  She  was  my  dear  godmother,  and 
I  was  almost  Protestant  ere  ever  I  went  to  Jouarre, 
but  a  wild,  romping,  light-hearted  child,  caring  lit 
tle  for  religion  at  best.  I  took  the  vows  only  be 
cause  I  must  and  because  Mademoiselle  was  forced 
to  and  I  could  not  forsake  her,"  and  -Jeanne  re 
counted  to  Norbert  the  circumstances  of  Charlotte's 
childhood. 

"  Mademoiselle's  courage  and  spirit  are  a  marvel 
after  so  oppressed  and  sorrowful  a  childhood,"  said 
Norbert  thoughtfully.  "  Ah,  Mademoiselle  de  Mous- 
son,  if  my  little  sister,  my  poor  Jacqueline,  could 
but  win  something  of  her  buoyancy  and  power  to 
throw  behind  her  the  memories  of  the  past  !  " 

"  Jacqueline,  is  she  the  little  sister  of  whom 
monsieur  le  capitaine  has  told  me  ?  the  sister  who 
was  with  you  in  the  house  of  that  murderous  Anas- 
tro,  in  Antwerp  ?  " 

"  The  same.  She  and  I  alone  are  left  of  all  our 
family.  I  believe  there  was  never  a  happier  house 
hold  than  ours.  The  old  home  in  Middelburg  is  the 
one  spot  on  earth  that  I  love,  and  there  are  times 
when,  strong  man  and  rough  soldier  though  I  am,  I 
could  weep  for  longing  to  hear  once  more  the 
chimes  of  our  old  minster  tower,  Lange  Jan." 

"  What  has  become  of  the  house  of  monsieur  ?  " 

"  It  belongs  to  Spain,  for  Middelburg,  I  shame  to 
say,  still  adheres  to  the  government.  I  hear  it  is 
used  at  present  as  headquarters  for  the  officers  of 
the  Spanish  garrison  of  Walcheren.  If  I  could  win 
it  back  and  once  more  call  it  mine,  mademoiselle, 
I  could  die  happy." 

"  You  love  it,  then,  so  much  !  But  tell  me  more 
Df  the  young  sister,  Jacqueline." 

"  Since  that  dreadful  night  when  we  found  the 
iron  chains  and  the  seal  of  Spain  upon  our  own 


327 

coor,"  said  Norbert,  with  stern  sadness,  "and 
learned  of  the  fate  of  those  we  loved  and  honored 
most  on  earth,  the  child  has  never  smiled." 

"  Pauvre  enfant! " 

"  She  is  now  a  tall  and  comely  maiden.  She  has 
grown  up  with  our  aunt  in  the  household  of  the 
elector  at  Heidelberg,  my  aunt  being  in  personal 
attendance  on  the  present  electress.  Her  excel 
lency  is  a  Dutch  lady,  the  widow  of  our  famous 
Heer  of  Brederode.  The  first  electress  died  soon 
after  Jacqueline  went  to  Heidelberg." 

"What  if  we  should  see  your  sister  some  day  ! " 

"  You  will  surely  see  her  if  you  are  at  the  court 
of  Heidelberg." 

"Madame  d'Albret,  in  her  letter  to  my  lady, 
strongly  urges  our  going  thither  shortly.  She 
thinks  there  can  be  no  safety  even  in  Sedan." 

"  There  is  no  safety  here,  so  much  is  sure  !  " 

Norbert,  who  had  been  riding  with  the  demoiselle 
de  Mousson  near  the  rear  of  the  little  procession, 
had  cast  his  eye  ever  and  anon  at  a  spot  of  red  in 
the  distance  behind  them. 

This  spot,  as  he  now  saw,  halting  and  rising  in 
his  stirrups  to  reconnoitre,  began  to  define  itself  as 
a  company  of  horsemen,  distinguished  by  the  red 
cloaks  of  royalist  soldiers. 

The  country  to  the  east  of  Rheims  was  swarming 
with  bands  of  wild  marauders,  disbanded  soldiers 
living  by  blood  and  plunder.  They  had  passed 
several  such  groups  during  the  morning  without  mo 
lestation.  There  was  something,  however,  in  the 
bearing  of  the  men  now  rapidly  approaching  which 
awakened  Norbert's  suspicion. 

They  were  now  not  more  than  a  mile  from  Ma- 
chault.  At  Norbert's  order  they  all  put  spurs  to 
their  horses  and  broke  into  a  gallop. 

Instantly  a  bullet  from  an  arquebus  whizzed  past 
them,  near  enough  for  danger,  a  sufficient  warning. 

Quick  as  thought,   her  lips  set  firmly,  a   light 


328 

flashing  in  her  eyes,  Jeanne  de  Mousson  was  at  the 
side  of  her  lady. 

"  Quick/'  she  cried,  "  dearest  lady — I  want  your 
cloak.  I  need  it.  Quick,  I  beg  of  you  !  " 

Confused  and  mistaking  her  meaning  Charlotte 
paused  to  unfasten  the  long  ermine-lined  man:le 
from  her  shoulders.  Jeanne  grasped  it  eager'y, 
and  Mademoiselle  found  the  plain  black  nun's  gar 
ment  of  her  devoted  attendant  thrown  around  her 
own  person. 

"  Voild,,  Mademoiselle  !  "  cried  the  girl,  drawing 
the  deep-furred  hood  over  her  head.  "  Is  it  not 
becoming  ?" 

The  Sieur  de  Minay,  who  instantly  detected  the 
purpose  of  this  maneuver,  and  who  had  felt  uneasy 
at  the  mark  of  rank  and  identity  furnished  by  the 
princely  garment,  made  an  exclamation  of  approval. 
But  there  was  not  an  instant  for  further  preparation. 
The  band  of  nine  men,  one  of  whom  they  now 
knew  for  Lambinot,  by  the  familiar  black  and 
white  livery  of  Jouarre,  were  within  close  range. 
Their  hostile  intent  was  but  too  manifest. 

Norbert  sent  the  women  forward  and  formed  his 
little  company  of  reiters  and  servants  in  a  double 
line  of  defense.  With  savage  and  reckless  boldness 
the  attacking  party  charged  them,  shouting,  "  A 
Guise  !  A  Guise  !  "  while  the  others  responded  to 
the  cry,  "  A  Bourbon  !  A  Bourbon  !  " 

There  was  a  sharp  and  desperate  encounter,  and 
falling  back,  Norbert  saw  to  his  dismay  that  two  of 
his  reiters  lay  wounded  or  worse  upon  the  ground, 
their  horses  galloping  madly  into  the  woods  which 
lined  the  road  on  either  side. 

Two  of  the  Red  Cloaks  had  also  fallen,  however, 
and  the  party,  somewhat  daunted,  seemed  to  pause, 
irresolute. 

Norbert  gave  the  order  to  retreat  and  they  were 
soon  in  full  flight,  as  he  had  no  desire  to  risk  a 
second  engagement  of  such  peril  for  Mademoiselle 


and  her  maidens.  On  they  rode,  Norbert  and  the 
Sieur  de  Minay  holding  the  rear,  facing  backward 
in  their  saddles,  pistols  in  hand.  There  was  no  time 
to  reload  their  heavier  arms.  The  Red  Cloaks  had 
recovered  and  were  now  thundering  down  the  road 
behind  them.  Escape  still  appeared  possible,  for 
they  were  the  better  mounted,  when  the  horse  of 
Jeanne  de  Mousson  becoming  unmanageable,  Nor 
bert  spurred  to  her  side,  and  grasped  him  by  the 
bridle.  Then  a  shot,  fired  with  deliberate  aim, 
struck  the  animal  behind  the  shoulder,  and  with  a 
convulsive  shudder  he  fell,  Jeanne  falling  with  him, 
but  with  almost  inconceivable  agility  springing  from 
her  saddle  and  thus  avoiding  injury. 

The  Sieur  de  Minay  halted.  "  Forward  !  "  cried 
Norbert  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  "  Forward,  as  fast 
as  you  can.  We  will  overtake  you  !  "  At  this  order 
the  little  company  rode  off  at  full  speed  down  the 
road  to  Machault. 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  Norbert's  mouth 
before  the  foremost  of  the  pursuing  party  were 
upon  them. 

Norbert  had  leaped  from  his  saddle  and  planted 
himself  squarely  in  front  of  Jeanne,  who  had 
wrapped  her  face  closely  in  her  hood. 

He  noted  that  an  order  was  given  to  cease  firing. 
The  purpose  of  the  attack  was  plainly  not  to  kill 
but  to  kidnap.  Fixing  his  eye  upon  Lambinot, 
easily  distinguished  by  his  black  livery,  Norbert 
waited  until  he  came  within  pistol  shot,  and  sent  a 
bullet  through  his  breast.  The  treacherous  varlet 
fell  dead  on  the  instant. 

"What  odds?"  cried  the  leader  of  the  band 
coolly,  and  on  the  instant  Norbert  recognized  him 
as  the  savage  blonde  Hessian  whom  he  had  once  be 
fore  encountered  in  the  Gasthaus  %um  Hirsch  in  Co 
logne.  "  So  much  the  more  for  the  rest  of  us.  The 
lady  !  The  lady  !  " 

Norbert,  who  now  wore  an  abundant  beard,  had 


330 

no  fear  of  being  recognized  by  the  Hessian,  who 
had  evidently  deserted  from  the  prince  and  turned 
freebooter.  Seeing  himself  overpowered  he  had 
held  up  his  handkerchief  in  token  of  surrender,  and 
in  another  moment  his  hands  were  bound  to  his 
sides,  his  weapons  taken  from  him,  and  he  was 
mounted  on  the  horse  of  the  dead  Lambinot. 

"  We  have  gained  our  point !  We  have  the  lady  ! 
Not  a  bad  little  skirmish  !  "  were  the  fragments  of 
talk  which  he  overheard  among  the  men  whom  he 
saw,  to  his  relief,  were  not  retainers  of  the  great 
cardinal,  as  they  had  heretofore  supposed,  but  a 
lawless  band  of  freebooters  who  had  doubtless  fol 
lowed  Lambinot  in  hope  of  a  generous  reward  for 
intercepting  the  flight  of  the  Abbess  of  Jouarre. 
Hardly  less  welcome  was  the  discovery  that  owing 
to  her  borrowed  cloak  Jeanne  was  safe  to  pass  for 
Mademoiselle,  there  being  no  one  left  to  know  to 
the  contrary.  Mademoiselle,  then,  they  might  hope, 
would  proceed  on  her  way  to  Sedan  without  further 
scathe. 

Norbert's  own  stern,  imperative  admonition  to 
the  men  to  treat  the  Princess  de  Bourbon  with  the 
courtesy  befitting  her  rank  was  scarcely  needed. 
Plainly  the  big  Hessian,  who  was  called  Hugo,  was 
confused  by  the  loss  of  Lambinot,  who  was  the 
moving  spirit  of  the  party,  and  somewhat  overawed 
by  the  magnitude  of  the  consequences  of  their  wild 
onslaught,  and  of  the  danger  to  themselves  if  the 
princess  suffered  at  their  hands.  Jeanne  de  Mous- 
son  was  accordingly  cared  for  with  rude  but  respect 
ful  deference,  and  all  mounting,  they  turned  back 
to  Rheims  at  a  rapid  pace.  The  high  and  dauntless 
spirit  of  the  Gascon  girl  and  the  genius  of  her  mer 
curial  temperament  were  signally  shown  in  the  ease 
with  which  she  assumed  the  role  of  the  "high  and 
puissant  "  Lady  of  Jouarre.  That  Norbert  was  to 
bear  the  part  of  steward  of  the  abbey  had  been 
fixed  between  them  in  one  whispered  word. 


It  was  nightfall  when  they  came  in  sight  of  the 
city  gates.  Norbert  had  decided  to  use  his  role  of 
the  servant  of  Mademoiselle  to  its  full  value.  He 
succeeded  in  achieving  a  rough  familiarity  with 
Hugo  himself  by  speaking  to  him  in  German,  and 
they  rode  on  side  by  side  in  the  rear  of  Jeanne  and 
the  others  of  the  band. 

The  cathedral  towers,  soaring  up  into  the  mists, 
admonished  him  that  his  time  was  short,  for  he  per 
ceived  the  purpose  of  Hugo,  once  arrived  in  Rheims, 
to  conduct  the  Abbess  of  Jouarre  immediately  to 
the  presence  of  the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine  and  claim 
the  reward  vouched  for  by  Lambinot. 

Assuming  a  certain  bold  and  braggadocio  air,  cal 
culated  to  impress  the  very  limited  intelligence  of 
the  big  Hessian,  he  said  :  "  It  was  a  scurvy  trick  of 
Lambinot,  rest  his  soul,  not  to  take  me  into  the 
secret  of  this  affair.  I  would  have  been  fast  for  it. 
But  he  wanted  the  prize  for  himself,  the  platter- 
faced  varlet !  I  knew  a  hundred-fold  more  of  her 
plans,"  and  he  made  a  gesture  of  his  thumb  toward 
Jeanne,  "than  ever  Lambinot  dreamed  of.  If  he 
had  let  me  in  I  could  have  managed  the  thing  for 
you  without  so  much  as  a  pistol  shot,  and  without 
danger  of  running  your  heads  under  the  axe's  edge 
for  kidnapping  a  princess  of  the  blood." 

Hugo,  in  his  blundering,  thick-witted  fashion,  was 
now  beginning  to  perceive  the  need  of  a  trifle  more 
finesse  than  he  was  possessed  of  to  carry  the  un 
dertaking  through  to  success. 

"  Is  there  danger  of  such  business  ?  "  he  asked, 
uneasily. 

"  By  my  halidom,  man,  I  should  think  a  blind 
mole  could  see  the  fix  you're  in  now  !  Here  you 
have  on  your  hands  the  daughter  of  the  proudest 
peer  in  France,  the  Due  de  Bourbon-Montpensier, 
whose  person  you  have  seized  by  force  and  vio 
lence,  without  the  first  shred  of  proof  that  she  was 
bound  on  any  other  errand  than  she  professed — a 


332 

visit  to  her  sister,  in  Sedan.  Who  is  going  to  vouch 
for  you  with  the  cardinal  if  he  should  give  you  an 
audience,  which  is  far  from  probable  ?  " 

Hugo  scratched  his  head,  much  puzzled. 

"By  Saint  Blasius,  I  am  in  a  trap!"  he  stam 
mered.  "If  I  could  talk  their  miserable  gabble  it 
might  go  better.  It  was  a  knock-down  to  lose 
Lambinot.  We  knew  nothing  of  the  matter  save 
that  there  was  booty  in  it." 

"  If  you  will  share  with  me,"  said  Norbert,  low 
ering  his  voice  to  a  confidential  whisper,  "  I  will  do 
the  business  with  the  cardinal  for  you.  I  could 
give  him  proof  positive  that  Mademoiselle  was  run* 
ning  away  that  nobody  else  could.  I've  had 
chances  at  many  a  letter,  and  I've  used  them  too. 
I  can  fix  it  with  his  eminence,  and  we  can  hand 
the  lady  over  and  divide  up.  Of  course  I'll  be  con* 
tented  with  less,  as  I  wasn't  in  at  the  first." 

Hugo  at  once  seized  this  proposition  as  his  last 
and  only  hope  and,  having  entered  the  city,  they 
rode  straight  to  the  palace  of  the  dreaded  cardinal, 
the  powerful  and  hated  "  Tiger  of  France."  That 
Lambinot  had  in  no  way  himself  communicated 
with  the  cardinal,  and  that  his  highness  had  never 
seen  Mademoiselle,  Norbert  was  fortunately  as 
sured. 

The  heart  of  Jeanne  de  Mousson,  brave  heart  as 
it  was,  throbbed  violently  as  she  presently  found 
herself  passing  through  the  brilliant  corridors  of  the 
magnificent  house,  with  Norbert  in  his  Jouarre  liv 
ery,  on  one  side,  and  the  tall  ruffianly  Hessian  free 
booter  scowling  fiercely  and  gnawing  his  mous 
tache,  on  the  other.  The  rest  of  the  rough  band 
had  been  left  behind  at  the  outer  gate  of  the  palace 
to  await  the  event. 

Overawed  by  grandeur  such  as  he  had  never 
before  witnessed,  at  the  smooth,  contemptuous  in 
difference  of  the  servants  to  whom  he  sought  in 
vain  in  his  broken  French  to  make  known  their 


333 

errand,  Hugo  quickly  gave  over  the  conduct  of  this 
interview  into  the  hands  of  Norbert. 

"This  is  your  affair,  do  your  best,"  he  cried  sul 
lenly  ;  "but  if  I  see  you  trying  to  turn  things  or 
play  me  false  I'll  put  a  bullet  through  your  head  as 
quick  as  if  you  were  a  rabbit." 

Without  the  slightest  doubt  of  the  sincerity  of 
this  declaration,  Norbert  now  boldly  took  the  ini 
tiative.  Addressing  a  page  courteously  he  stated 
briefly  that  her  highness  the  Princess  Charlotte  de 
Bourbon-Montpensier,  Abbess  of  Jouarre,  humbly 
but  urgently  requested  immediate  audience  of  his 
eminence,  being  in  severe  straits.  The  page  re 
ceived  this  request  with  great  respect,  and  as  a 
consequence,  the  three  ill-assorted  companions 
found  themselves  in  short  order  admitted  to  the 
ante-chamber  of  Charles  de  Lorraine. 

As  he  followed  her  into  the  apartment  Norbert 
had  an  instant  in  which  to  whisper  in  Jeanne's  ear : 

"  You,  ^Abbess  of  Jouarre,  on  your  way  to  Sedan  to 
visit  your  sister,  have  been  foully  abducted  by  this 
miscreant  for  ransom;  protest  your  indignation,  claim 
protection! " 

Jeanne  put  her  hand  into  the  bosom  of  her  dress. 
Yes,  it  was  there  !  She  had  taken  into  her  keep 
ing  that  morning  a  small  bag  of  her  lady's  jewels. 
Among  them  was  the  abbatial  ring  which  Mademoi 
selle  had  taken  from  her  finger  as  soon  as  she  left 
Jouarre.  Jeanne  slipped  it  quickly  upon  her  own 
forefinger.  Then  a  door  was  thrown  open,  and 
lifting  her  eyes  she  saw  before  her  a  prelate  of 
imposing  figure  and  singularly  handsome  face, 
clothed  from  throat  to  feet  in  a  cassock  of  brillant 
scarlet  silk,  and  bearing  on  his  head  a  berettina 
of  the  same  color,  and  around  his  neck  a  thick  gold 
chain  from  which  depended  a  large  and  exquisite 
crucifix. 

Jeanne,  the  two  men  kneeling  at  a  distance  be 
hind  her,  dropped  trembling  but  self-possessed  upon 


3*4 

her  knee  and  kissed  the  hand  of  the  great  cardinal, 
craving  his  blessing.  The  rich  ermine  mantle  fall 
ing  around  her  delicate,  gradnise  figure,  the  rigid 
conventual  garb,  the  striking  distinction  and  beauty 
of  her  person,  and  the  sweetness  of  her  voice  dis 
armed  any  suspicion  on  the  part  of  the  prelate,  and 
he  pronounced  a  brief  blessing,  eying  Norbert  and 
Hugo  with  cold  suspicion. 

"I  beg  your  eminence  to  intervene  and  save 
your  daughter  in  Christ,  me,  Charlotte  de  Bourbon, 
Abbess  of  Jouarre,  from  yonder  ruffian,"  she  whis 
pered  imploringly.  **  Will  you  graciously  call  my 
steward  hither  and  let  him  recount  our  horrible  ad 
venture?  In  truth,  holy  father,  1  am  too  ex 
hausted  for  much  speaking." 

With  these  words  and  an  air  of  extreme  weari 
ness  and  agitation  Jeanne  de  Mousson  rose  and  by 
a  nod  the  cardinal  beckoned  Norbert  forward,  at 
the  same  time  touching  a  jeweled  bell  on  his  table 
and  giving  a  command  in  an  inaudible  voice  to  an 
attendant. 

"  Your  lady  speaks,  sir  steward,  of  a  horrible  ad 
venture.  What  is  It  ?  Say  on." 

Speaking  very  low  and  very  rapidly  in  French, 
not  one  word  of  Norbert's  was  intelligible  to  Hugo, 
who  as  he  stood  grew  more  and  more  bedazzled 
with  the  sense  that  he  was  out  of  his  proper  ele 
ment  and  knew  not  what  unexpected  outcome  this 
adventure  would  yet  take.  He  saw  himself,  how 
ever,  completely  in  Norbert's  hands. 

" Monseigneur,"  said  Norbert,  "my  lady,  the 
exalted  and  most  noble  Princess  of  Bourbon,  Ab 
bess  of  Jouarre,"  and  he  bowed  profoundly  to 
Jeanne,  who  folded  her  hands  calmly  before  her, 
the  official  ring  full  in  view,  looking  as  she  lifted 
her  charming  head  with  languid  grace,  every  inch 
a  princess,  "  was  on  her  way  to  visit  her  illustrious 
sister,  Madame  the  Duchesse  de  Bouillon,  in  Sedan, 
taking  with  her  a  sufficient  escort,  and  certain  of  her 


335 

household,  such  as  myself.  One  of  our  number, 
an  unspeakable  scoundrel  and  traitor,  named  Lam- 
binot,  deserted  our  company  this  morning,  having 
conceived  the  infamous  plot  of  betraying  her  high 
ness  into  the  hands  of  a  band  of  border  freeboot 
ers.  Of  these,  the  man  you  see  yonder  is  the 
head.  The  rest  are  now  waiting  at  the  palace 
gate.  Their  purpose  is  to  hold  my  lady  for  ran 
som  ;  and  of  this,  Lambinot  looked  to  swallow  up 
the  lion's  share. 

"  In  the  affray  which  followed  the  attack  of  these 
ruffians  we  both  lost  men,  and  on  their  side  Lam 
binot  himself  fell.  We  were,  however,  worsted, 
and  her  highness  was  captured  as  you  see,  upon 
which  the  residue  of  our  escort  put  spurs  to  their 
horses  and  escaped.  I  defended  my  lady  to  the 
utmost  of  my  power,  my  lord,  believe  me,  but  I 
was  overpowered,"  and  Norbert's  voice  trembled 
with  apparent  fear  lest  his  faithfulness  as  a  servant 
might  be  called  in  question. 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  good  fellow,"  said  the  cardinal 
with  careless  condescension,  "  the  amazing  thing 
is,  how  you  got  yonder  villainous-looking  knave  in 
hither.  In  sooth  I  greatly  mislike  his  looks." 

The  cardinal's  characteristic  timorousness  made 
him  vastly  uneasy  as  he  kept  his  eyes  on  Hugo's 
dark  and  threatening  face. 

"  I  cajoled  his  ignorance,  monseigneur,  into  be 
lieving  that  your  eminence  would  willingly  pay 
him  a  ransom  on  the  spot  for  the  recovery  of  the 
stepdaughter  of  Madame  de  Montpensier,  your 
niece." 

"  Ah,  that  was  adroit  of  you,  my  friend." 

Without  stepping  nearer  the  cardinal  raised  his 
voice,  and  addressing  Hugo  asked  with  a  slight 
smile,  and  speaking  in  German  : 

"  Was  it  you,  my  man,  who  made  this  capture  ?  " 

Hugo  nodded  emphatically  and  his  eyes  shone 
gaunt  and  avidious. 


336 

"Yes,  I,  my  lord." 

"  Who  is  this  lady  ?  "  and  the  cardinal  indicated 
Jeanne  with  a  sweep  of  his  white  and  jeweled  hand. 
"  Were  you  aware  of  her  title  and  rank  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,  my  lord.  The  Princess  of  Bourbon, 
the  Abbess  of  Jouarre." 

The  cardinal  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Self-convicted,"  he  murmured,  and  again 
touched  the  bell,  this  time  very  lightly. 

On  the  stroke  six  halberdiers  entered  the  room 
by  a  door  behind  Hugo,  and  before  he  knew  of  their 
presence  he  was  overpowered,  bound,  and  dragged 
from  the  room. 

"Bah,"  said  the  cardinal.  "I  breathe  freer! 
He  was  a  man  by  his  countenance  who  would  mur 
der  you  any  day  for  his  dinner.  Moreover,  he  smelt 
vilely  of  the  stables.  Madame,  1  congratulate  you 
on  escaping  from  such  company." 

With  color  and  vivacity  and  confidence  return 
ing,  Jeanne  expressed  her  gratitude  for  her  de 
liverance  in  a  manner  which  the  cardinal,  who  was 
a  keen  judge  and  admirer  of  feminine  charms, 
found  singularly  captivating.  He  was  furthermore 
extremely  glad  to  have  a  chance  for  personal  ac 
quaintance  with  the  distinguished  and  possibly 
heretical  Abbess  of  Jouarre,  whom  he  had  fancied 
as  of  a  very  different  strain. 

"You  are  over  young,  and  I  might  add  over  pretty, 
Mademoiselle,  to  make  a  proper  abbess,"  he  said 
with  impressive  gallantry  ;  "  and  truth  to  tell,  we 
hear  that  you  are  not  so  rigid  in  your  rule  as  might 
be.  How  about  these  rumors  which  reach  us  that 
the  daughter  of  my  good  friend,  Montpensier,  gives 
place  to  heretics  and  harbors  and  listens  to  the 
enemies  of  Holy  Church  ?  Now  we  have  you,  my 
charming  child,  at  our  mercy,  we  must  e'en  apply 
the  questions  which  comport  with  sound  discipline," 
and  the  prelate  bent  upon  Jeanne  a  look  curiously 
mingled  of  caressing  flattery  and  stern  suspicion. 


337 

"  Ah,  but  monseigneur,"  said  the  girl,  with  naive 
and  bewitching  coquetry,  "  I  fear  me  much  that  I 
am  too  young  for  so  great  a  charge  ;  and  then  pity  us 
poor  sisters — think  of  us,  with  armies  all  about  us, 
war  on  every  side  !  What  can  we  do  ?  We  have 
no  one  to  defend  us.  One  day  we  must  feed 
Huguenots  and  the  next  our  own  friends,  or  be  at 
the  mercy  of  both.  Pardon  our  little  delinquencies 
this  time.  We  promise  to  give  no  cause  for  your 
reproof  in  the  future,  oh  never,  never  again  !  " 

The  shy,  beseeching  glance  under  Jeanne's  long 
lashes  with  which  these  words  were  spoken,  had 
its  full  effect  upon  the  amorous  cardinal.  It  would 
come  not  amiss,  he  reflected,  in  the  tedium  of  his 
present  retirement  here  at  Rheims  to  have  this 
charming  spiritual  ward  for  a  while  as  a  guest  of  his 
house.  His  niece,  her  stepmother,  was  even  now 
present  on  a  visit,  and  would  furnish  all  due  chaper- 
onage.  He  would  keep  the  dainty  little  abbess  as  a 
kind  of  prisonnttre  sur  parole  until  he  was  assured 
of  her  Catholicity,  and  a  few  hours  spent  daily  in 
the  light  of  such  glances  would  be  a  welcome  recre 
ation. 

His  cold  yet  passionate  eyes,  the  lids  drawn  nar 
rowly,  now  scanned  the  face  and  figure  of  the 
young  Benedictine  with  an  eagerness  which  he 
was  too  arrogant  to  seek  to  disguise.  Startled  by 
something  which  caught  his  glance,  he  exclaimed  : 

"  But  what  is  this  ?  Madame  1'Abbesse  carries 
a  pistol  at  her  belt !  "  and  he  pointed  his  forefinger 
at  the  weapon  with  which  Jeanne  had  been  fur 
nished  by  Norbert. 

"  In  truth,  your  eminence,  in  the  wild  encounter 
through  which  we  have  just  passed  I  had  need 
enough  for  arms,"  she  murmured  in  some  con 
fusion. 

"  What  should  a  maiden  like  you,  bred  in  a  con 
vent  from  her  cradle,  know  of  the  use  of  arms  ?  " 
rejoined  the  cardinal  incredulously.  "You  could 

w 


338 

not  hit  a  man  though  he  stood  an  arm's  length 
before  you.  That  is  no  toy  for  you,  Mademoiselle," 
and  with  these  words  he  quietly  drew  the  pistol 
with  his  own  hand  from  her  belt  and  laid  it  on  the 
table  at  his  side,  his  eyes  resting  upon  hers  the 
while. 

The  blood  mounted  scarlet,  then,  to  Jeanne's 
cheeks  and  her  eyes  flashed  fire,  for  in  both  glance 
and  action  lurked  a  subtle  significance  which  she 
could  not  miss. 

"  I  could  at  least  make  shift  to  aim  it  at  my  own 
breast,  monseigneur,  if  need  were,"  she  said  coldly 
and  with  a  fearless  hauteur  which  thrilled  the  heart 
of  Tontorf  as  he  stood  mute  and  apart  perforce  with 
a  very  passion  of  sympathetic  admiration,  despite 
the  danger  which  her  daring  might  involve. 

Charles  de  Lorraine,  however,  plainly  found  his 
new  protegee  but  the  more  piquant  for  her  defiance. 
A  smile,  soothing  yet  implacable,  played  around 
his  handsome  mouth,  a  smile  which  frightened 
Jeanne  de  Mousson  far  more  than  a  frown  would 
have  done. 

"  Very  good  ;  Mademoiselle  has  courage,"  he  said 
carelessly,  but  the  note  of  command  was  unmis 
takable  as  he  continued  :  "  happily,  however,  such 
conjunctures  are  now  overpast.  We  shall  have 
time  presently  to  admonish  the  fair  Abbess  of 
Jouarre  for  her  lack  of  prudence  in  this  dangerous 
journey,  as  also  to  search  somewhat  narrowly  any 
weakness  of  faith  such  as  has  been  alleged  against 
her.  You  will  remain  under  our  roof  for  a  season 
and  I  shall  expect  you  to  promise  me,"  he  added 
graciously,  "  when  you  are  again  at  Jouarre,  Made 
moiselle,  to  follow  in  all  respects  the  teaching  of — 
what  is  his  name  ?  that  abbe  I  sent  to  Meaux  for 
you  the  other  day  ? ' ' 

"  Pere  Brodier,"  said  Jeanne.  "Ah,  monseign 
eur,  we  like  him  not  so  very  well.  Have  you  not 
a  more  agreeable  confessor  for  us  ?  " 


339 

The  cardinal  laughed.       , 

"  Ha,  ha  !  Brodier  is  rather  a  dull  fellow,  I  admit. 
Perhaps  we  will  look  into  the  matter.  And  now, 
Mademoiselle  is  tired  with  these  untoward  adven 
tures.  Are  you  aware  that  Madame  de  Montpensier 
is  here  ?  " 

Jeanne's  color  fled.  Was  recognition,  after  all, 
inevitable? 

"  No,  monseigneur.     Is  it  so  ?  " 

"She  is  at  present  in  the  extreme  wing  of  the 
palace,  occupied  by  my  sister,  the  sup'erieure  of  St. 
Peter's.  How  if  1  send  you  at  once  thither  ?  The 
ladies  will  be  careful  that  you  have  all  fitting  at 
tendance  and  comfort." 

"  Thanks,  monseigneur.  May  my  steward  ac 
company  me  ?  " 

"Surely,  surely,  my  daughter." 

Dismissing  her  with  an  almost  affectionate  bene 
diction,  the  cardinal  now  summoned  an  attendant 
to  whom  he  gave  direction  to  conduct  the  Princess 
de  Bourbon  to  the  presence  of  her  stepmother,  Cath 
erine  of  Lorraine.  Jeanne,  with  Norbert,  followed 
the  servant  from  the  room  and  down  a  flight  of 
stairs  to  the  ground  floor  of  the  palace. 

To  both  of  them  it  seemed  that  the  most  ominous 
crisis  of  their  adventure  was  now  just  before  them. 
The  first  sight  of  the  Duchesse  de  Montpensier,  who 
had  been  recently  herself  at  Jouarre,  would  betray 
the  whole  situation,  and,  worst  of  all,  might  yet  in 
volve  most  serious  consequences  to  Jeanne's  be 
loved  lady.  As  they  went  on  Norbert's  eyes  turned 
swiftly  from  side  to  side,  on  the  alert  for  a  means 
of  yet  evading  this  most  to  be  dreaded  encounter. 

At  the  main  approach  to  the  palace  the  band  of 
men  was  still  waiting  for  them.  Escape  must  be 
by  a  different  entrance  if  at  all. 

They  had  entered  now  a  long,  dimly  lighted  cor 
ridor,  having  a  row  of  low  casement  windows  open 
ing  upon  a  garden  or  inner  court,  dark  and  deserted. 


340 

This  might  offer  one  last,  desperate  chance.  As 
they  passed  these  casements,  Norbert  exclaimed  : 

"  Your  highness,  your  ring  !  Do  you  remember, 
you  removed  it  to  show  its  design  to  monseigneur  ? 
You  left  it,  I  fear,  behind  you." 

Quick  as  lightning  in  her  perceptions,  and  quicker 
now  than  ever,  since  every  sense  was  stimulated 
by  terror,  Jeanne,  swiftly  removing  her  ring  which 
she  concealed  in  her  left  hand,  held  up  her  right, 
exclaiming  : 

"You  are  right.  It  is  gone.  I  have  either  lost 
it,  or  left  it  behind." 

They  had  stopped  now.  Turning  to  the  attend 
ant,  Jeanne,  in  her  sweetest  manner  and  with  her 
most  winning  smile,  said  : 

"Ah,  my  good  friend,  will  you  be  so  kind  as  to 
return  and  seek  my  ring,  my  large  ring  of  office  ? 
But  if  you  fail,  by  no  means  disturb  his  eminence  in 
the  matter.  We  will  meanwhile  move  slowly  for 
ward." 

With  no  faintest  suspicion,  the  servant  darted 
back  to  do  her  bidding. 

The  instant  he  turned  the  corner  of  the  corridor 
Norbert  had  forced  a  casement  open  and  they  were 
in  the  open  air,  the  casement  softly  closing  behind 
them. 

A  moment  later  he  and  Jeanne  de  Mousson,  having 
fled  through  the  dark  garden  and  emerged  without 
challenge  of  the  guard  from  it  by  an  open  gateway, 
found  themselves  alone  and  free  in  the  streets  of 
Rheims,  le  gros  Bourdon  thundering  over  their  heads 
the  hour  of  seven. 


XXX 

SHORT  WOOING 

"  \/ES,  I  can  help  you,  and  I  will  to  the  extent  of 
Y  my  power ;  but  you  must  obey  me  absolutely 
in  one  particular  or  I  can  do  nothing." 

Thus  spoke  Maltre  Chaudon,  the  Huguenot  pas 
tor  of  Rheims,  to  Jeanne  de  Mousson  and  Norbert, 
standing  before  him  in  his  own  study  one  half-hour 
later.  They  had  reached  this  place  of  refuge  in 
safety  by  Norbert's  lucky  memory  of  the  house  in 
the  Rue  de  Tambour,  which  he  had  visited  with 
Louis  of  Nassau.  Their  story  was  already  told, 
their  imminent  peril  manifest. 

"  And  what  is  that  condition,  monsieur  ?  "  asked 
Norbert,  cheered  by  the  strong  promise  of  aid  in  the 
Huguenot's  first  words,  but  something  chilled  by 
the  sternness  and  severity  of  those  which  followed. 

"  Is  there  any  impediment  on  the  part  of  either  of 
you  to  marriage  ?  " 

With  unspeakable  amazement  they  both  replied 
in  the  negative. 

"  As  1  supposed.  That  is  very  well.  I  will  pro 
vide  you  with  a  change  of  garments,  with  horses 
and  with  a  shelter  outside  the  gates  of  Rheims  for 
the  night,  in  fine,  with  all  possible  means  of  escape, 
on  the  one  condition  that  your  marriage  take  place 
here  and  now,  within  the  next  fifteen  minutes." 

From  both  young  faces  the  color  fled,  and  then 
rushed  back  in  deep  mantling  blushes.  Jeanne 
trembled  violently  while  Norbert  drew  back,  con 
fused  by  so  startling  a  proposition,  and  yet  seeing 
the  wisdom  of  it  as  Maitre  Chaudon  now  said  more 
gently : 


342 

"With  all  confidence  in  the  honor  and  virtue  of 
you  both  I  yet  cannot  in  justice  to  your  own  good 
name  and  the  fair  fame  of  that  noble  lady  whom 
Mademoiselle  de  Mousson  represents,  give  my  sanc 
tion  to  your  wandering  &  deux  around  the  country 
in  this  wild  fashion  except  you  go  as  man  and 
wife." 

Norbert  hesitated  no  longer.  Offering  his  hand 
to  Jeanne  he  led  her  into  an  alcove  at  a  slight  dis 
tance  and  said  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  Mademoiselle,  every  moment  counts.  The 
pastor  is  right,  I  believe,  on  my  honor,  but  it  must 
be  short  wooing.  1  offer  you  my  heart  and  hand, 
an'  you  will  have  me,  to  serve  you  in  all  faith  and 
fidelity  while  I  live." 

Then  Jeanne  lifted  her  eyes  and  looked  straight 
way  into  his  and  said  with  a  cold  though  gentle 
little  smile  : 

"  Sir,  I  will,  if  I  may,  take  the  protection  of  your 
name  this  night,  and  will  hold  myself  in  so  far 
your  chosen  and  lawful  wife  that  no  other  can  ever 
claim  my  heart.  But  I  too  must  make  a  condition." 

"  Mademoiselle  has  but  to  name  it,"  said  Nor 
bert  bowing  with  ceremonious  courtesy. 

"My  love  and  duty  belong  first  of  all  to  my 
lady.  Will  you  promise  me  that  until  she  bids  you 
so  to  do  you  will  never  claim  me  as  your  wife  nor 
bear  yourself  toward  me  as  a  husband  ?  "  and  her 
eyes  fell  and  her  voice  faltered  for  all  her  high 
spirit. 

"  I  promise  on  my  honor  as  a  soldier  and  a  Chris 
tian,"  said  Norbert  solemnly. 

Then  Jeanne  laid  her  hand  in  his  and  the  look  in 
his  face  of  purpose  high  and  pure  sent  the  blood 
bounding  through  her  veins  with  mysterious  joy. 

The  daughter  of  Maitre  Chaudon,  who  had  been 
in  the  room  throughout  this  brief  interview,  now 
led  Jeanne  into  an  adjoining  apartment  and  assisted 
her  to  lay  aside  the  coif  and  wimple  and  all  other 


343 

articles  of  conventual  costume.  Around  her  shoul 
ders  she  tied  a  white  lace  scarf  over  the  plain 
black  robe  and  thus  attired,  with  a  pale,  serious 
face,  Jeanne  presented  herself  again  before  Maitre 
Chaudon. 

Fixing  his  eyes  upon  her  the  pastor  said  :  "  Do 
you,  Jeanne  de  Mousson,  solemnly  declare  that  you 
have  now  of  your  own  free  will  and  with  true  re 
ligious  conviction  laid  aside  your  habit  and  your 
vows  as  a  nun  of  the  Order  of  St.  Benedict  ?  " 

"I  do." 

Maitre  Chaudon  then  pronounced  the  irrevocable 
words  which  made  of  these  two  man  and  wife,  and 
the  wedding  being  brief  as  the  wooing,  Jeanne  was 
presently  again  given  into  the  hands  of  Maitre  Chau- 
don's  daughter.  For  the  next  matter  in  hand  was  to 
furnish  the  pair  with  adequate  disguise  and  so  hasten 
their  departure  within  the  hour  from  the  city  where 
could  be  no  safety  for  them  when  once  the  Cardinal 
de  Lorraine  awoke  to  find  himself  outwitted,  which 
might  be  soon  or  late. 

So,  a  half-hour  later  the  bride  and  bridegroom 
met  again  and  neither  knew  the  other  at  first  glance. 
The  nun  had  disappeared  forever,  and  in  her  place 
now  appeared  a  peasant  lad,  for  Jeanne's  hair  had 
been  cut  straight  and  square  across  her  forehead 
and  below  her  ears.  Upon  her  head  sat  jauntily  a 
small  green  cap.  She  wore  a  well-worn  leather 
jerkin  and  wide  fustian  breeches,  coarse  knit  stock 
ings  and  wooden  sabots,  and  looked  to  admiration, 
with  a  basket  of  tools  on  her  shoulder,  the  vine 
dresser's  boy  for  whom  she  was  to  pass.  Norbert 
was  similarly  arrayed,  but  his  beard  was  shaven, 
his  face  stained  to  a  dull  brown  hue,  and  his  body 
bent  well  forward  under  the  weight  of  a  much 
larger  basket,  from  which  protruded  picks  and 
shovels. 

Maitre  Chaudon  faced  the  two  and  his  counte 
nance  relaxed  its  gravity. 


344 

"I  have  married  many  a  pair,"  he  said,  "gentle 
and  simple,  but  this  is  without  doubt  the  motleyest 
bridal  party  that  ever  left  my  door.  The  Cardinal 
de  Lorraine  would  hardly  recognize  the  Abbess  of 
Jouarre  in  this  gentle  knave.  Listen  to  me  now. 
You  will  have  no  difficulty  in  making  your  way  out 
of  the  city  by  the  gate  for  foot  passengers  if  you 
start  at  once.  Do  not  go  to  the  east,  but  take  the 
north  gate  and  proceed  on  the  road  to  Guignicourt 
for  a  mile.  Turn  then  to  the  right  where  the  stone 
crucifix  stands  at  a  parting  of  the  ways  and  follow 
the  path  until  you  come  at  the  vineyard's  edge  to  a 
small  hut  of  the  vine-dressers,  which  you  will  find 
empty.  Here  you  must  keep  yourselves  in  hiding 
until  dawn,  when  two  horses  will  be  brought  you 
by  two  of  our  own  trusty  Huguenots.  Ride,  then, 
as  fast  as  you  may  to  Rethel.  There  you  will  find 
a  considerable  band  of  the  troops  that  came  into 
France  with  John  Casimir.  They  are  about  leav 
ing  for  the  Palatinate  and  if  you  present  this  letter 
to  their  leader,  a  true  and  worthy  officer,  he  will 
give  you  safe-conduct  speedily  to  Sedan." 

"  Then  shall  we  surely  be  in  time  to  warn  my 
lady  not  to  linger  in  Sedan  ?  "  asked  Jeanne. 
"  In  truth  I  am  greatly  fearful  lest  her  safety  may 
be  threatened  when  once  the  cardinal  finds  that 
there  has  been  a  trick." 

"  It  will  take  the  cardinal  a  day  or  two,  madame," 
said  Maitre  Chaudon,  "to  unravel  this  very  com 
plicated  web  which  you  have  woven  for  him.  I 
have  no  doubt  you  will  reach  Sedan  in  good  sea 
son  to  hasten  your  lady's  journey  to  Heidelberg. 
Doubtless  there  should  be  no  delay  in  this. 

"  Now  farewell.  In  the  basket  of  Aladame  Ton- 
torf,"  at  which  Jeanne  grew  rosy  red,  "there  is  a 
thick,  warm  blanket,  food,  and  wine.  Be  of  good 
courage  and  may  God  speed  you  on  your  strange 
wedding  journey." 

A  moment  later  Jeanne  and  Norbert  were  on  the 


345 

street,  and  bending  under  their  burdens,  which  were, 
however,  in  reality  of  little  weight,  they  plodded  on 
to  the  northern  gate  of  Rheims. 

There  was  no  evidence  of  the  excitement  or  con 
fusion  of  an  alarm  or  search  in  the  streets  through 
which  they  passed  and  they  ventured  to  infer  that 
the  companions  of  Hugo  had  scattered  in  disgust, 
and  that  the  cardinal  was  still  unaware  of  the  ruse 
of  which  he  had  been  made  the  victim. 

Passing  the  gate  without  notice  the  pair  were 
soon  swinging  at  a  good  pace  along  the  hard  white 
wintry  road,  bleak  fields  and  woods  lying  cold  on 
either  side  under  the  pale  starlight,  the  silence  of 
night  reigning  all  about  them. 

Then  when  they  reached  the  wayside  hut,  drear 
and  dark  and  deserted,  Norbert  entered  first,  and 
finding  all  safe  made  shift  to  pile  a  little  straw  in  a 
corner  and  calling  Jeanne,  said  gently,  as  she  stood 
in  the  doorway  of  the  poor  place  : 

"  Dear  lady,  it  grieves  me  that  I  can  do  no  better 
than  to  offer  you  such  cold  comfort.  Wrap  you 
well  in  the  blanket  which  your  basket  holds  and 
sleep  if  you  can  while  I  without  hold  guard  with 
God  and  all  good  angels  till  dawning.  Good-night," 
and  with  this  he  closed  the  door  and  all  through  the 
hours  till  morning,  armed  and  alert,  he  paced  the 
frozen  field  before  that  forlorn  cabin,  and  yet  he 
found  the  hours  not  too  long. 

Then  in  the  morning,  through  the  chill  and  gloom 
of  the  daybreak  came  two  mounted  men  who 
stopped  not  to  parley,  but  dismounting  before  the 
hut  gave  over  their  horses  to  Norbert  and  turned 
swiftly  back  on  foot  the  way  they  came.  The 
sound  of  hoofs  brought  Jeanne  to  the  door,  and 
Norbert  thought,  for  all  her  quaint,  disfiguring  dis 
guise,  he  had  never  seen  her  eyes  clearer  nor  her 
smile  so  softly  bright.  He  lifted  her  to  her  saddle, 
and  her  little  hand  rested  on  his  shoulder  a  thought 
longer  than  was  needful  and  she  said  ruefully  : 


346 

"  Monsieur  has  not  slept.     It  was  too  bad." 

"A  man  does  not  sleep,  madame,"  said  Nor- 
bert  leaping  into  his  saddle  and  trotting  after 
her  out  from  the  field  into  the  high  road,  "  when 
he  has  to  guard  his  most  precious  treasure." 

This  made  the  demoiselle  very  thoughtful  for 
some  minutes,  but  when  she  spoke  it  was  to  say 
timidly: 

"  I  think  it  is  a  bad  practice  for  Monsieur  Roubi- 
chon  to  address  me  as  '  madame,'  since  we  wish  to 
keep  our  secret  most  carefully." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Norbert,  smiling  over  at  her, 
"but  I  must  beg  you  to  remember  that  I  am  no 
Frenchman  and  we  can  now  drop  the  Roubichon. 
Remember  that  every  drop  of  blood  in  my  body  is 
Dutch,  and  my  name,  such  as  it  is,  is  yours." 

All  day  they  rode  onward,  but  the  wearier  the 
way  the  blither  grew  Jeanne's  spirits.  A  certain 
undercurrent  of  reserve  and  hauteur  kept  Norbert 
ever  at  a  safe  distance,  but  over  this  played  an  arch 
and  irresistible  coquetry  as  natural  to  the  girl  as  its 
song  to  a  bird.  Snatches  of  song,  gay  laughter  and 
merry  nonsense  brightened  the  anxious  hours  and 
the  bleak  rigor  of  the  day. 

"Tell  me,  tell  me,  am  I  fair?" 

Jeanne  sang  the  old  Champenoise  virelay  with 
ripples  of  musical  laughter : 

"  Does  my  mirror  show  me  true? 
Sweet  of  face  and  cropped  of  hair, 

Tell  me — is  that  so  to  you  ? 
Tell  me,  tell  me,  am  I  fair?  " 

With  the  challenge  came  a  glance  of  arch  and 
mocking  merriment  from  under  the  dark,  short  elf- 
locks  which  set  Norbert  himself  to  laughing  in  spite 
of  his  grave  anxiety  for  their  perilous  journey.  But 
no  sooner  had  she  succeeded  in  bringing  him  thus 
to  suit  her  mood  than  the  Gascon  maiden  with  one 


347 

of  her  swift  and  irresistible  transitions  fell  to  sing 
ing  another  strophe  with  gentle,  pensive  appeal : 

"  If  my  lover  gentle  prove, 

Knightly,  brave,  and  true  to  love, 
Slave  and  servant  will  I  be, 
Tell  me,  tell  me,  am  I  true? " 

Half  angered  with  himself  that  this  unclaimed  bride 
of  his  could  thus  play  upon  him  and  control  his 
emotions,  with  a  pair  of  eyes  and  an  old,  old  song, 
Norbert  found  the  tears  nevertheless  springing  to  his 
own  eyes  in  response  to  the  demure  sweetness  of 
the  shyly  lifted  lids  and  the  pathetic  wistfulness  of 
the  beautiful  mouth. 

"  What  are  you,  mademoiselle  ?"  he  cried  storm- 
ily,  "  elf  or  sprite  or  Christian  maiden  ?  In  sooth, 
for  a  plain  Dutchman  like  myself  you  are  a  riddle." 

"  Maitre  Chaudon  said  I  was  Madame  Tontorf," 
said  Jeanne  with  a  pensive  little  shake  of  her  head. 

"  He  had  some  reason  so  to  say,  I  believe,"  said 
Norbert  quickly. 

"  Ah  no,  monsieur  le  capitaine,  no,  no  !  Maitre 
Chaudon  is  a  very  good  man,  but  he  told  a  very 
great  falsehood.  Not  Madame  Tontorf,  never  that 
until  my  lady  of  her  own  free  will  shall  bid  me  be. 
Remember  your  promise." 

In  silence  they  rode  on  toward  Rethel. 


XXXI 

AWAKE  AT   LAST 

THE  year  1572  in  its  dawning  brought  every- 
i  where  a  mysterious  quickening  to  the  hearts 
of  men.  Passionate  pulsations  of  the  new 
and  larger  hope  of  liberty  beat  and  surged  through 
whole  nations. 

In  that  spring  the  castle  of  Dillenburg  in  the 
lonely  Westerwald  became  for  a  time  the  nerve- 
center  of  the  Protestant  movement  in  Europe. 

With  superb  rebound  William  of  Nassau  had 
emerged  from  the  oblivion  into  which  he  had  been 
forced  by  political  and  military  defeat  and  by  the 
disgrace  of  his  wife's  dishonor.  Again  his  profound 
capacity  for  great  combinations  and  bold  yet  states 
manlike  measures  was  at  work. 

The  great  immediate  purpose  to  which  all  his 
energies  were  now  directed  was  the  alliance  of  the 
French  with  the  Netherlands  patriots  for  the  war 
with  Spain.  Coligny  and  Count  Louis  together  had 
pressed  the  project  forward  and  everything  now 
pointed  to  swift  success. 

In  his  remote  fastness  the  prince  sent  couriers 
incessantly  flying  over  all  Europe,  communicated 
daily  with  kings  and  queens,  levied  troops,  issued 
letters  of  marque  to  the  rude  navy  known  as  Beg 
gars  of  the  Sea,  and  sent  his  messengers  into  every 
corner  of  the  Netherlands  to  gather  funds  with 
which  to  inaugurate  a  new  war  of  independence. 

On  an  early  April  morning  the  prince  entered  the 

small    room    overlooking  the  wooded    hills  to  the 

northwest  of  the  castle,  which  was  for  the  time 

being  his  cabinet.     Brunynck,  his  secretary,  sat 

348 


349 

waiting  with  a  pile  of  letters  and  dispatches  heaped 
high  on  the  table  before  him. 

Before  the  prince  could  take  his  seat  there  was  a 
volley  of  light  knocks  on  the  door  and  in  poured 
the  pretty  troop  of  his  motherless  and  worse  than 
motherless  children,  the  golden-haired  five-year- 
old  Maurice  leading  the  line.  All  had  their  hands 
full  of  blossoms  of  the  yellow  gorse,  with  white  and 
rosy  hawthorn,  and  were  full  of  sweet  affectionate 
joyance  as  they  gave  their  father  morning  greeting. 

The  prince  received  the  little  embassy  with  ten- 
derest  fatherliness,  and  with  that  peculiar  yearn 
ing  wistfulness  often  seen  in  men  who  have  to  fill 
the  place  of  both  father  and  mother. 

Leaving  their  treasures  of  gorse  and  hawthorn  to 
light  up  the  gloomy  little  cabinet  the  children  fol 
lowed  the  beckoning  hand  of  the  gentle  elder  sister, 
Marie,  and  as  they  closed  the  door  the  prince, 
without  haste  but  without  waste  of  a  second's  time 
turned  to  his  secretary. 

"  Wohlan!  Brunynck,  what  is  first  ?  " 

"  A  courier  from  the  Elector  of  Saxony,  your 
highness,  has  brought  this  letter  and  awaits  your 
reply." 

The  prince  swiftly  scanned  the  letter  handed 
him.  His  face  grew  stern,  and  the  traces  of  the 
tenderness  with  which  he  had  just  now  welcomed 
his  children  were  lost  in  the  deep  lines  which  re 
membered  agony  seemed  suddenly  to  cut  afresh  in 
his  face. 

He  laid  the  letter  down  and  taking  his  pen  wrote 
a  reply  which  he  then  handed  to  Brunynck  to 
copy.  The  letter  said  in  answer  to  the  proposition 
contained  in  that  of  the  elector,  uncle  and  guard 
ian  of  Anne  of  Saxony  :  "  Regarding  her,  who  was 
formerly  my  wife,  it  is  but  just  that  her  relatives 
shall  now  assume  the  care  and  responsibility  for 
her.  You  can  do  with  her  as  you  will.  To  me  she 
is  dead." 


350 

Down  in  Beilstein  in  rage  and  madness  the  un 
happy  Anne  of  Saxony  was  even  then  foaming  out 
her  bitterness  and  wearing  out  her  wretched  life, 
while  in  a  cell  of  the  remote  Dillenburg  dungeon 
lay  the  miserable  partner  of  her  guilt,  Jan  Rubens. 
His  life  by  the  law  of  the  land  was  forfeit  by  his 
confessed  crime,  but  the  magnanimity  of  the  man 
against  whom  that  crime  had  been  committed  had 
remitted  his  sentence  to  imprisonment.  To  the 
world  outside  the  whole  affair  was  wrapped  in  im 
penetrable  silence  and  mystery. 

An  hour  passed  during  which  the  prince  had 
dictated  half  a  dozen  dispatches  and  written  several 
letters  with  that  matchless  faculty  of  swift  and 
facile  composition  which  never  forsook  him.  From 
camp  or  court,  from  palace  or  cottage,  from  hall  or 
hiding,  wherever  the  fortunes  of  Orange  led  him, 
flowed  forth  those  numberless  letters  with  which 
he  led  his  people,  wrought  out  their  deliverance, 
out  of  weakness  made  them  strong,  defied  their 
enemies  and  put  to  flight  the  armies  of  the  aliens. 

The  handwriting  was  like  the  man  ; — firm,  flexi 
ble,  sensitive,  essentially  high-bred,  the  states 
man's,  the  scholar's  hand  rather  than  the  soldier's. 

Then  through  the  open  window  from  far  below 
there  came  a  clear  loud  blast  upon  a  bugle  ringing 
through  the  air  and  echoing  and  re-echoing  from 
the  castle  walls  and  the  steep  hills  surrounding. 

The  prince  started  to  his  feet. 

"  That  may  be  a  courier  from  the  Netherlands  !  " 
he  said,  "  or  it  may  be  from  Coligny  !  " 

Hastening  down  the  hill  he  paused  under  the 
majestic  linden  tree,  half-way  down  the  descent, 
for  by  the  sound  of  his  horse's  hoofs,  the  messen 
ger,  whoever  he  might  be,  was  fast  approaching. 
Another  instant  and  Norbert  Tontorf  leaped  from 
his  saddle  and  threw  himself  upon  his  knee  before 
the  prince. 

"Great  news,  my  lord  !"  he  cried,  and  again 


with  irrepressible  enthusiasm,  as  he  rose,  he  put 
his  bugle  to  his  lips  and  blew  a  pealing  clarion  note. 
Turning  to  the  prince  he  cried  : 

"My  lord,  at  last  the  Netherlands  are  awake! 
They  are  on  fire  !  Brill  is  captured  by  de  Lumey 
and  his  men  !  Hurrah  for  the  Beggars  of  the  Sea  !  " 

The  prince  listened  to  Norbert's  impassioned  out* 
burst  with  intense  eagerness,  but  his  first  response 
showed  anxiety  rather  than  exultation. 

"  This  may  imperil  our  whole  enterprise.  I  fear 
me  greatly  the  Beggars  have  cut  another  of  their 
mad  capers  which  have  already  brought  so  much 
discredit  to  our  cause  and  against  which  Coligny 
'has  so  urgently  warned  me." 

"It  may  be  a  mad  caper,  your  highness,"  said 
Norbert,  undaunted,  "but  the  success  of  it  has 
awakened  our  people  at  last  from  their  sleep.  The 
whole  population  of  Voorn  have  taken  the  oath  of 
allegiance  to  your  highness  as  Stadtholder  and  all 
Holland  and  Zeeland  are  ready  to  follow." 

"  But  is  this  news  trustworthy  ?  "  asked  the 
prince  quickly;  "how  came  you  by  it,  since  you 
are  on  your  way  hither  from  France  direct  ?  " 

"  From  a  courier,  my  lord,  sent  straight  from 
Treslong  himself  with  a  message  to  give  by  word 
of  mouth,  as  they  dared  put  nothing  in  writing. 
The  man  had  ridden  his  horse  to  death  and  himself 
near  unto  it.  I  met  him  below  in  the  village  and 
he  begged  me  to  convey  his  message  to  your  high 
ness.  You  can  rely  upon  it.  All  the  people  now 
ask  is  that  the  Prince  of  Orange  will  lead  them. 
The  tenth  penny  has  struck  the  slowest  hearts  and 
the  most  selfish  to  revolt,  and  I  believe  the  time  is 
ripe  for  victory." 

"Tontorf,"  said  the  prince,  clasping  both  the 
young  soldier's  hands,  while  his  eyes  glistened  with 
quick  emotion,  "if  my  people  are  ready  they  will 
not  wait  in  vain  !  May  God  speed  the  cause  and 
let  the  oppressed  go  free  !  " 


352 

With  this  they  turned  and  walked  together  to  the 
castle. 

There  was  thanksgiving  and  praise  in  the  ancient 
hall  of  Dillenburg  that  day,  and  the  whole  princely 
household,  from  the  white-haired  lady  mother  to 
the  tiny  Emilia,  latest  born  daughter  to  the  prince, 
gathered  at  a  joyful  feast  in  the  stately  banqueting 
chamber.  But  no  commoner  in  the  land  was  more 
simply  served  than  was  that  noble  company,  for 
pewter  and  common  earthenware  vessels  had  long 
since  taken  the  place  on  that  table  of  the  gold  and 
silver  plate,  the  rare  and  royal  service  of  earlier 
days.  Shorn  of  every  vestige  of  outward  magnifi 
cence  for  the  sake  of  the  holy  cause,  in  the  hearts 
of  those  patriots  the  inner  glory  burned  but  the 
brighter. 

In  the  evening  Norbert  was  again  alone  with  the 
prince,  and  together  they  paced  the  terrace  over 
looking  the  village,  in  the  sweet  spring  air. 

"  You  have  brought  me  great  tidings  from  Nether 
lands,  and  a  good  word  from  Louis  in  Blois  and 
from  Coligny,  but  I  have  yet  to  hear  of  your  other 
adventure.  How  fared  it  with  your  expedition  from 
La  Brie,  Tontorf  ?  " 

"Well,  my  lord." 

"  I  know  from  the  elector  that  Mademoiselle  de 
Bourbon  is  safely  in  Heidelberg.  I  had  supposed 
that  she  would  remain  with  her  sister  in  Sedan." 

"No,  my  lord.  The  Cardinal  de  Lorraine  was 
over-near  her  there  for  safety,  and  she  remained 
with  madame  la  Duchesse  but  two  days." 

"  Tell  me,  if  you  will,  the  whole  story,"  said  the 
prince,  his  quiet  manner  scarcely  veiling  a  very 
vivid  interest  in  the  subject. 

"  We  had  a  little  encounter  with  a  band  of  free 
booters  soon  after  we  left  Rheims,  and  two  of  us 
fell  into  their  hands,  while  the  rest,  with  Mademoi 
selle,  proceeded  safely  without  injury  to  Sedan, 
which  they  reached  the  second  night  thereafter, 


353 

and  we  a  day  later,  having  made  a  detour  by 
Rethel."  As  to  the  personality  of  his  companion 
in  this  incident  Norbert  chose  to  say  nothing  unless 
questioned. 

"  A  band  of  twenty  of  Casimir's  reiters,  who  came 
with  us  from  Rethel,  gave  Mademoiselle  her  escort 
from  Sedan  to  the  borders  of  the  Palatinate,  Made 
moiselle  sending  her  servants  back  to  Jouarre." 

"  Do  you  know  how  the  tidings  of  her  flight  was 
received  there  ?  " 

"  With  deepest  grief  and  consternation,  my  lord. 
Far  otherwise  was  it  received  by  her  father." 

"  Ah,  surely,  you  went  to  Montpensier  yourself. 
The  elector  wrote  me  that  finding  you  well  qualified 
for  the  adjustment  of  delicate  matters  he  had  taken 
the  liberty  of  retaining  you  in  the  interests  of 
Mademoiselle,  and  of  dispatching  you  almost  im 
mediately  after  your  arrival  back  to  France." 

"  Yes,  I  remained  but  a  few  days  in  Heidelberg, 
long  enough,  however,  to  see  Mademoiselle  royally 
welcomed  by  the  elector  and  madame,  and  full  of 
joy  in  her  new  religious  freedom.  The  elector 
treats  her  as  a  beloved  daughter,  and  madame  can 
hardly  bear  to  have  her  out  of  her  sight." 

"I  have  heard  that  Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon 
is  a  lady  of  rare  charms,"  said  the  prince  quietly. 

"Ah,  my  lord,"  cried  Norbert,  "to  those  who 
are  within  her  inner  circle  the  devotion  to  Made 
moiselle  becomes  a  sort  of  cult.  There  is  about 
her  something  that  I  have  never  seen  in  like  meas 
ure  in  any  other  person,  and  that  is  the  power  to 
lift  up  those  who  are  cast  down  and  cheer  the  sor 
rowful.  You  know  of  my  poor  little  sister,  and  our 
sorrow." 

"Yes,  Tontorf ;  I  have  thought  that  the  full 
cruelty  of  that  terrible  crime  fell  more  heavily  upon 
her  than  upon  you,  since  she  has  had  to  bear  the 
knowledge  that  in  all  innocence  she  had  betrayed 
those  she  loved  to  their  death." 


354 

"  It  is  true,  my  lord.  The  burden  of  her  grief 
has  eaten  out  all  her  young  life  like  a  canker.  No 
one,  not  even  the  electress,  fondly  as  she  loves  her, 
has  been  able  to  lift  up  her  wounded  spirit  until  she 
saw  Mademoiselle.  The  first  sound  of  her  voice 
seemed  to  bring  a  new  light  into  Jacqueline's  eyes, 
and  I  believe  hope  and  courage  are  dawning  for 
her,  through  the  influence  of  my  lady." 

"  How  beautiful  !  "  murmured  the  prince. 

"And  such  is  the  saint,  the  angel  almost,"  cried 
Norbert  passionately,  "against  whom  her  father, 
the  Due  de  Montpensier  rages  as  against  an  escaped 
felon,  calling  upon  all  and  sundry  to  'find  her  wherever 
she  may  be,  within  or  without  the  kingdom  and  bring 
her  back,  alive  or  dead,  that  the  injury  and  dishonor 
which  she  has  brought  upon  her  father  may  be  atoned 
for  by  a  punishment  and  a  chastisement  so  notable 
that  the  memory  of  it  may  endure  perpetually  through 
all  time  to  come." 

"  Does  the  Due  so  say  ?  "  and  the  prince's  brow 
knit  stormily. 

"  Such  are  his  words,  and  such  envenomed  bit 
terness  as  were  shown  by  both  him  and  his  wicked 
little  duchesse  I  have  never  witnessed." 

"  Has  the  elector  made  formal  announcement  of 
the  arrival  of  Mademoiselle  at  Heidelberg  to  others." 

"  Yes,  I  went  also  to  his  majesty,  King  Charles 
and  to  the  queen-mother." 

"  How  did  they  receive  the  tidings  ?  " 

"With  sang-froid  my  lord.  The  court  thinks  of 
little  now  but  the  marriage  of  Princess  Marguerite 
with  Prince  Henri  of  Navarre.  The  king  remarked 
that  he  had  ever  thought  his  cousin  de  Montpensier 
a  blind  mole  to  cage  up  in  a  monastery  so  lovely 
a  creature  as  his  daughter  Charlotte,"  he  added. 

The  prince  was  silent  for  some  moments  and  when 
he  next  spoke  it  was  to  say  with  energy  : 

"  And  now,  Tontorf,  for  the  Netherlands  !  All 
depends  upon  the  swiftness  and  skill  with  which 


355 

we  can  carry  through  our  measures.  Every  town 
in  Holland  and  Zeeland  of  importance  must  be 
secretly  visited  and  a  call  to  action  and  to  arms 
placed  in  the  hands  of  the  burgomasters.  It  will 
be  a  difficult  expedition  and  a  dangerous.  Are  you 
ready  for  it  ?  " 

"  Ready,  my  lord." 

On  the  fifteenth  day  of  May  there  stepped  from  a 
small  coastwise  ship  upon  the  Rouenische  Kade  in  the 
city  of  Middelburg,  a  Breton  mariner  with  bronzed 
face,  in  coarse  blue  woolen  jerkin  and  knitted  cap, 
who  with  hands  thrust  deep  into  his  breeches  pock 
ets  strolled  idly  along  the  Kade  whistling  an  odd 
little  tune. 

From  the  Kade  the  aforesaid  mariner  entered  a 
narrow  street,  looking  from  side  to  side  with  appar 
ent  curiosity  and  coming  presently  into  the  great 
market  place  just  as  the  Stadthuis  chimes  rang  out 
for  seven  o'clock.  A  queer  smile  crossed  the  sailor's 
face  as  he  looked  up  at  the  belfry,  and  his  eyes 
wandered  from  it  to  the  tower  of  Lange  Jan  rising 
silent  from  the  roofs  of  the  great  abbey  buildings. 
Lounging  near  the  Stadthuis  the  Breton  watched 
with  apparent  indifference  the  drill  of  a  regiment  of 
Spanish  soldiers  in  the  great  square.  Several  idlers 
addressed  him  in  Dutch,  but  he  appeared  to  under 
stand  no  language  but  French  and  no  one  could 
enter  into  conversation  with  him. 

When  the  voice  of  the  great  horologe  of  Lange 
Jan  smote  upon  the  evening  air  the  stranger  turned 
his  head  quickly  and  walked  away  in  the  direction 
of  the  Lange  Delft. 

It  was  remarked  afterward  that  the  man  was 
seen  hanging  about  the  old  Tontorf  house,  now  the 
headquarters  of  the  Spanish  officers,  and  some  one 
reported  that  they  saw  tears  in  his  eyes  and  heard 
him  mutter  to  himself  incomprehensible  words. 
Soon  after  he  disappeared,  but  when  the  burgomas- 


356 

ter  and  the  town  council  met  in  assembly  the  fol 
lowing  morning,  this  same  Breton  mariner  was 
ushered  into  the  room  and  gave  into  the  hands  of 
the  burgomaster  a  letter  and  thereafter  disappeared 
and  was  not  seen  again  nor  could  be  found  in  all 
Middelburg. 

Upon  opening  this  letter  it  was  found  to  be  from 
the  Prince  of  Orange  with  his  own  sign  and  seal, 
and  it  exhorted  the  men  of  Middelburg  not  to  be 
behind  their  countrymen  in  the  island  of  Walch- 
eren,  but  to  follow  the  example  of  Flushing  and 
Veere  and  declare  themselves  loyal  to  their  out 
raged  land  and  ready  for  action. 

Such  an  appeal  the  worthy  burgomaster  and  his 
honorable  councillors  found  exceeding  troublesome 
and  dangerous,  as  involving  measures  treasonable 
to  the  king  of  Spain,  and  as  Middelburg  was  in 
vested  with  a  goodly  Spanish  garrison,  wholly  un 
feasible  for  that  present  time.  Let  them  of  Flush 
ing  and  Veere  declare  for  the  Beggars  if  they 
choose,  they  of  Middelburg  depended  on  Spain  for 
their  prosperity  and  trade  and  by  Spain  they  would 
stand. 

Meanwhile  the  Breton  mariner  went  on  his  way 
to  Flushing,  Veere,  Enkhuizen,  to  Alkmaar,  Gouda, 
Leyden,  Dort,  and  a  dozen  other  places,  and  wher 
ever  he  appeared  a  letter  straightway  was  found 
in  the  hands  of  burgomaster  or  alderman,  a  letter 
from  the  Prince  of  Orange,  and  in  the  letter  an 
appeal  to  rise  and  protect  their  ancient  liberties  and 
throw  off  the  tyranny  of  Alva,  and,  save  Middel 
burg,  every  town  responded. 

Then  followed  a  great  day,  a  day  which  heralded 
the  freedom  of  the  Netherlands.  At  Dordrecht  the 
estates  of  Holland,  Zeeland,  Utrecht,  and  Friesland 
assembled  and  formally  recognized  the  prince  as 
their  lawful  stadtholder,  and  in  the  cheers  that  rent 
the  sky  no  man  cheered  louder  than  that  same 
Breton  mariner. 


357 

St.  Aldegonde,  the  patriot  poet  and  ardent  friend 
of  Orange,  addressed  the  estates  with  impassioned 
oratory,  rehearsing  the  outrageous  wrongs  suffered 
under  Alva,  and  prophesying  the  dawning  of  a  new 
day  of  freedom  and  release. 

Then  in  loud  and  thrilling  chorus  for  the  first 
time  was  sung  the  glorious  hymn,  the  "Wilhelmus- 
lied  "  of  St.  Aldegonde  : 

"  Take  courage,  my  brave  people  all ! 

God's  grace  protects  you  still ; 
The  Lord  will  never  you  forsake, 

Though  now  ye  suffer  ill. 
The  Lord  then  pray  both  night  and  day, 

Beseech  him  faithfully, 
That  he  will  give  me  aid  and  power 

To  set  my  people  free." 

"  My  life  and  all  that  is  my  own 

I  to  your  cause  confide  ; 
My  brothers,  knightly  gentlemen, 

Stand  loyal  at  my  side. 
Count  Adolf  we  left  lying  there 

In  Friesland's  woful  fray, 
His  soul  above,  In  worlds  unseen, 

Waits  for  the  judgment  day. 


XXXII 
WHITER  THAN  THE  WHITEST. 

IN  the  Westwall  garden  of  Heidelberg  Castle  white 
lilies  were  blooming  in  stately  ranks  under  the 
shade  of  the  mighty  lindens.  The  June  sun 
pouring  over  the  grim  bastion  of  the  Rondel  and 
touching  the  sun  dial  at  its  base  showed  the  day's 
decline.  The  woodthrush  was  fluting  in  the  dense 
billowing  mass  of  the  forest  foliage  below  the  castle 
wall,  and  the  breeze  which  stirred  the  treetops 
came  laden  with  the  fragrance  of  roses. 

The  scent  of  the  roses  brought  to  Charlotte  de 
Bourbon,  who  lingered  near  the  castle  wall,  keen 
memories  of  other  roses,  another  garden,  and  an 
other  life  in  a  far  land.  But  though  the  thought  of 
Jouarre  brought  the  dimness  of  tears  for  a  moment 
to  hide  the  valley  of  the  Neckar,  stretching  west 
ward,  green  and  fair,  it  could  not  long  cloud  the 
serene  joyousness  of  her  spirit. 

The  Abbess  of  Jouarre  was  no  more,  and  in  her 
place  moved  and  lived  a  radiant  maiden,  whose 
simple  white  gown,  without  jewels,  bespoke  her 
poverty  and  declared  nothing  of  her  rank  and  con 
sequence.  But  her  firm  and  spirited  bearing  and 
the  frank,  innocent  delight  of  every  look  and  mo 
tion,  told  of  freedom  and  a  heart  at  ease. 

In  her  hand  Mademoiselle  held  a  letter,  and  turn 
ing  now  from  the  wall  she  began  slowly  to  pace  the 
garden  path  between  the  lilies,  and  as  she  moved 
on  she  lifted  the  letter  in  her  white  hand  and  read 
again  the  lines  inspired  by  deepest  affection  for  her 
self,  and  undying  faithfulness  to  her  interests.  It 
was  her  "  bien  bonne  con  sine  et  parfaite  amye,  Je- 
358 


359 


£  - 

g 

•s  s 

I 

CASTLE 


360 

hanne,"  who,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  excitement  of 
the  French  court  and  the  approaching  marriage  of 
her  son  to  the  daughter  of  Catharine  de  Medici,  still 
found  time  to  seek  to  reconcile  the  bitter  spirit  of 
the  Due  de  Montpensier  to  his  child. 

With  all  her  tenderness,  Jeanne  d'Albret  could 
not  conceal  from  Charlotte  the  fact  of  her  ill  suc 
cess  thus  far ;  but  even  this  and  the  knowledge  of 
her  father's  persistent,  impotent  rage  could  not  long 
cloud  the  spirit  of  the  lady.  She  was  free,  and  her 
freedom  was  safely  guarded  by  her  host,  the  stanch 
old  elector.  A  month  before  he  had  received  the 
emissaries  of  the  furious  Due,  sent  in  succession  to 
demand  the  person  of  his  daughter  and  convey  her 
back,  by  force,  if  necessary,  to  France,  with  the 
imperturbable  reply  that  he  would  send  Mademoi 
selle  back  only  on  the  express  conditions  of  her 
personal  safety  and  her  free  exercise  of  the  Protes 
tant  religion.  Such  answer  was  final.  The  Due 
desisted  from  further  efforts,  and  his  daughter,  al 
though  knowing  herself  fatherless,  yet  knew  her 
self  free.  The  joy  of  her  newly  won  freedom 
could  not  be  destroyed,  the  rather  that  it  had  given 
her  the  long-desired  power  to  confess  herself  Prot 
estant,  without  fear  or  favor,  following  unchecked 
the  impulses  of  her  earnest  conviction  and  entering 
in  full  sympathy  into  the  devout  religious  life  of 
the  court  of  Heidelberg. 

But  Charlotte  was  not  only  free,  she  was  un- 
watched,  she  who  had  never  been  unwatched  in 
all  her  young  life  ;  best  of  all,  she  was  ardently  be 
loved  in  the  household  of  the  Elector  Friedrich. 
Around  her  there  had  formed  itself  already  in  the 
three  months  of  her  residence,  a  little  inner  court 
of  Huguenot  refugees  from  her  own  dear  land,  to 
whose  homesick  anxieties  and  distress  she  had  be 
come  a  ministering  angel,  and  among  whom  she 
was  well-nigh  adored  for  the  generosity,  the  gen 
tleness,  and  the  winning  grace  of  her  nature. 


36 1 

And  so,  as  Charlotte  de  Bourbon  let  fall  the  hand 
which  held  the  letter  of  her  majesty  of  Navarre  and 
turned  to  speak  to  the  young  girl  who  was  walking 
a  step  or  two  behind  her,  her  blue  eyes  were  clear 
and  sunny  as  they  had  been  in  the  days  of  her 
childhood.  Bending,  she  broke  a  lily  stem  and  in 
haled  the  fragrance  of  the  gleaming  white  chalice. 

"Oh,  how  sweet  these  lilies  are!"  she  cried. 
"  Ever  and  everywhere  the  same  !  Did  you  hear 
the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  coming  up  the  hill, 
Jacqueline  ?  "  she  asked  her  companion,  a  little 
later,  carelessly.  "  Methinks  I  heard  something  a 
moment  since,  but  now  it  has  ceased." 

Jacqueline  Tontorf,  a  tall,  slender  girl,  with  heavy 
masses  of  brown  hair  braided  about  her  head,  and 
large  brown  eyes  in  which  dwelt  a  brooding  thought- 
fulness,  responded  gently  in  the  affirmative. 

Then  as  the  eyes  of  both  turned  toward  the 
southern  entrance  of  the  west  wall,  they  saw  ap 
proaching  them  a  man  of  knightly  figure  and  bear 
ing,  clad  in  a  light  suit  of  mail  with  a  plumed  helmet. 

It  was  the  Prince  of  Orange. 

Approaching  nearer  the  prince  stayed  his  steps, 
with  a  look  of  deepest  homage,  wonder,  and  rever 
ence. 

"Your  pardon,  gracious  lady,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  find  myself  mistaken.  Catching  sight  of  your 
self  and  your  companion  as  I  approached  the  castle 
gate  I  thought  I  recognized  my  good  friend  of  other 
days,  the  Electress  Amalie,  and  so  gave  my  horse 
to  my  groom  and  made  haste  forthwith  to  present 
myself  to  her  grace.  Pardon  my  mistake  and  my 
seeming  presumption." 

Mademoiselle,  who  had  lost  and  recovered  all  her 
bloom,  and  much  more,  while  these  words  were 
spoken,  now  said,  with  a  slight  tremor  in  her  voice  : 

"And  would  I  also  be  in  error  should  I  think 
myself  speaking  to  monseigneur  the  Prince  of 
Orange?" 


362 

The  prince  had  removed  his  helmet  and  stood 
-with  bared,  stately  head,  his  helmet  braced  against 
his  left  side.  Approaching  the  lady  now  by  a  few 
steps  he  signified  a  peculiar  pleasure  in  such  recog 
nition,  bowing  profoundly.  Then  in  a  voice  so  low 
that  it  was  unheard  by  the  maiden,  Jacqueline,  who 
had  turned  back  and  seemed  studying  the  old  dial 
with  deepest  interest,  he  said  : 

"  Your  grace,  long  ago  in  another  garden,  in  an 
other  land,  a  man  who  was  half  a  prisoner,  and 
greatly  burdened  in  heart  and  mind,  saw  a  fair 
demoiselle,  hardly  beyond  childhood  in  years.  She 
also  was  clothed  in  white  and  she  carried  white 
roses  in  her  hand,  as  white  as  your  flowers,  Mad 
emoiselle,  but  her  face  was  yet  whiter  and  her 
eyes  tear-dimmed.  The  man  who  gazed  upon  her 
whom  he  now  knows  to  be  the  Princess  de  Bour 
bon,  and  who  named  her  "Sainte  Silence,"  has 
never  forgotten  that  unknown  maiden  nor  the  tal 
isman  she  gave  him  that  day.  Silence,  patience, 
fortitude,  such  was  the  message  of  the  rose." 

The  Prince  of  Orange  in  the  thirteen  years  which 
had  passed  since  he  was  a  hostage  at  the, Palace  of 
Vincennes,  had  changed  from  the  brilliant,  conquer 
ing  young  courtier  to  a  mature  and  serious  man 
hood.  His  face  was  grave,  deep  lines  of  thought 
and  care  were  in  his  forehead,  and  traces  of  gray 
showed  in  the  brown  beard  and  hair.  In  place  of 
the  sense  of  joyous  and  masterful  confidence  which 
had  characterized  the  foster-son  and  favorite  of  the 
great  emperor  in  his  young  years,  there  now  ap 
peared  a  profound  reserve,  a  searching,  even  mourn 
ful  inquiry,  a  stern,  indomitable  resoluteness.  Yet 
in  far  greater  measure  to-day  than  in  his  youth  the 
personality  of  the  prince  possessed  that  imposing 
and  inexplicable  quality  which,  apart  from  what  a 
man  may  say  or  do  or  appear  cries,  "  Here  is  a 
.great  man." 

As  he  now  spoke  with  a  rare  and  moving  gentle- 


363 

ness,  his  dark  serious  eyes  fixed  fully  upon  her 
face,  Charlotte  de  Bourbon  felt  that  strong  influ 
ence  of  the  person  and  presence  of  the  prince  in  an 
almost  overmastering  degree.  Her  eyes,  which  had 
sought  to  avoid  the  ardent  homage  in  the  looks  of 
the  gallant  younger  Nassau,  Count  Louis,  received 
and  returned  the  deeper  devotion  in  the  eyes  of  his 
brother  with  simple  steadfastness,  but  from  head 
to  foot  she  trembled  and  something  stirred  within 
her  heart  in  poignant,  mysterious  augury.  Unable 
by  reason  of  her  unwonted  agitation  to  reply  to  his 
words,  Charlotte  for  answer  extended  her  right 
hand  to  the  prince  and  in  the  hand,  unaware,  she 
still  held  the  single  lily. 

The  prince  lifted  the  beautiful  hand  to  his  lips, 
and  took  the  flower  quietly  into  his  own  hand. 

"  Thanks  are  poor,  Mademoiselle,  for  such  a  gift," 
he  said  gravely.  "I  have  told  your  highness  the 
message  of  the  rose.  A  day  may  come  when  I 
shall  be  so  bold  as  to  ask  you  to  tell  me  the  mes 
sage  of  the  lily.  May  we  speedily  meet  again  !  " 
and  with  a  salutation  of  courtliest  deference  he 
turned  then  and  hastened  back  to  the  great  gate  of 
the  castle. 

Charlotte  walked  slowly  down  the  path  to  Jac 
queline,  who  still  stood  near  the  sun  dial  with  her 
serious,  contemplative  gaze  ranging  over  the  land 
scape. 

"  Child,"  she  said  softly,  "do  you  know  who 
it  is  that  has  come  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  prince  !  " 

"  You  have  seen  him  before  !  seen  him  doubt 
less  in  Breda  ?  " 

"  Never  before,  your  highness." 

"  How,  then,  knew  you  him  ?  You  heard  me  ad 
dress  him  ?  " 

Jacqueline  shook  her  head  quietly. 

"  No,  my  lady.  I  knew  there  was  but  one  man 
to-day  alive  who  could  look  like  that." 


364 

"  What  is  it,  Jacqueline,  which  makes  his  grace  of 
Orange  so  unlike  other  men  ?  "  murmured  Char 
lotte. 

She  was  trembling  still,  touched  by  a  nameless 
but  potent  influence  which  she  could  not  define  nor 
comprehend. 

Jacqueline  was  silent,  her  eyes  full  of  their 
strange,  melancholy  brooding. 

"  He  is  no  longer  the  lonely  wanderer,  outcast, 
friendless,  powerless,  as  in  the  time  of  which  your 
brother  has  told  me,"  proceeded  Charlotte  mus 
ingly  ;  "  he  has  rallied  his  forces,  compelled  his  fate, 
conquered  his  evil  star,  and  is  to-day,  so  the  elector 
has  told  me,  the  central  militant  figure  in  the  Prot 
estant  world." 

"  Yes,  my  lady,  the  tide  has  turned.  His  grace 
is  now  to  return  to  our  dear  land  with  a  great  army 
and  set  my  people  free." 

"  Yes,  Jacqueline.  This  I  most  certainly  believe, 
for  is  not  France  also  aroused  ?  And  with  Coligny 
and  the  prince  joining  their  forces,  success  this  time 
seems  certain.  1  feel  the  sense  of  power  in  mon- 
seigneur.  I  feel  his  steady,  conquering  courage,  and 
yet — what  is  it  in  his  face,  in  his  eyes,  which  gives 
me  this  unspeakable  pang  ?  " 

It  was  strange.  Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon  asked 
this  question  of  the  simple  Zeeland  maiden  with  an 
eagerness  which  denoted  belief  in  her  ability  to 
give  her  adequate  reply. 

"Ah,  my  lady,"  said  the  girl,  slow  tears  drop 
ping  from  her  eyes,  "  it  is  so  plain." 

"  What  is  plain,  Jacqueline  ?  " 

"  That  my  lord  is  doomed.  Do  you  not  see 
that  seal  of  the  martyr  on  his  brow  ?  that  shadow 
of  death  in  his  eyes  ?  It  was  in  my  father's,"  and 
Jacqueline's  voice  sank  to  a  whisper.  "  It  is  a  look 
which,  if  you  once  have  seen,  you  never  can  mis 
take." 

No  word  or  sign  responded  to  this  strange  utter- 


1  365 

ance,  but  with  face  white  and  awed  Mademoiselle 
turned  and  hastened  from  the  garden. 

That  evening  the  stately  Kaiser-Saal  in  the  Otto- 
Heinrichsbau  was  the  scene  of  brilliant  festivity  in 
honor  of  the  distinguished  guest  of  the  elector.  At 
a  late  hour  ten  trumpeters  in  gorgeous  livery  enter 
ing  the  hall  blew  a  silvery  blast  announcing  that 
supper  was  served.  The  court  then  proceeded 
through  the  eastern  entrance  of  the  Kaiser-Saal, 
and  by  the  long  south  gallery  to  the  famous  Gla- 
serner-Saal  in  the  upper  story  of  the  Saalbau. 

Here  the  venerable  elector  and  his  wife,  the  still 
young  and  charming  Princess  Amalie,  took  their 
places  at  the  head  of  the  table,  the  Princess  de  Bour 
bon  at  the  right  of  the  grave,  fatherly  elector,  the 
Prince  of  Orange  at  the  left  of  his  old  friend,  the 
Netherlandish  electress.  Beside  Mademoiselle  sat 
Duke  Christoph,  the  stalwart  young  son  of  the 
elector,  and  beside  the  prince,  Kunigunde,  the  rosy- 
cheeked  young  daughter. 

It  had  been  under  the  escort  of  the  prince,  for 
whom  she  had  ever  entertained  a  species  of  en 
thusiastic  hero-worship,  that  the  beautiful  widow 
of  his  lifelong  friend,  the  famous  Heer  von  Brede- 
rode,  had,  in  1569,  visited  the  court  of  Heidelberg, 
and  won  the  heart  of  its  master,  then  in  the  second 
year  of  his  widowhood.  Orange  was,  therefore, 
the  favorite  guest  of  the  princely  pair,  and  a  spirit 
of  unconstrained  good  cheer  and  unclouded  mutual 
confidence  reigned  supreme. 

The  prince  was  at  his  best.  A  new  influx  of 
power  and  hope  gave  lustre  to  his  eyes  and  added 
brilliancy  to  his  conversation.  Victory  and  saiccess 
seemed  well  within  his  grasp  that  night.  He  knew 
himself  to  be  among  friends  enthusiastically  de 
voted  to  his  person  and  interests,  and  just  before 
him,  inspiring  every  thought,  sat  the  lovely  French 
princess,  in  her  gracious,  girlish  beauty,  with  the 
serene  repose  of  the  cloister  still  upon  her. 


366 

To  the  prince  Charlotte  de  Bourbon  was  a  new 
type  of  womanhood.  His  mother  and  sisters  were 
noble,  pious,  and  serious-minded  women  of  the 
sturdy  old-German  domestic  type.  Anne  of  Eg- 
mont,  the  wife  whom  the  Emperor  Charles  had 
chosen  for  him  at  eighteen,  had  been  an  amiable, 
but  colorless  and  conventional  person,  who  had  left 
no  deep  impression  upon  his  heart  or  life.  Then 
had  followed  his  ambitious  but  ill-fated  union  with 
Anne  of  Saxony,  which  had  resulted  in  eight  years 
of  profound  suffering  and  humiliation.  Although 
borne  in  proud,  uncomplaining  silence,  the  ravages 
of  those  years  upon  the  brain  and  heart  of  the 
long-suffering  man  might  never  be  obliterated. 

But  the  prince,  all  the  more  for  an  experience 
like  this  and  for  his  lifelong  familiarity  with  famous 
court  beauties  of  his  time,  was  quick  to  respond  to 
the  lofty  purity,  the  delicate  reserve,  the  flexible, 
yet  stately  grace  of  the  "maiden  from  afar"  of 
whom  so  much  had  already  been  told  him,  and  in 
whom  with  strange  emotion  he  had  recognized  the 
"little  Sainte  Silence"  of  his  long-ago  encounter 
at  the  court  of  France. 

Uniting  in  herself  in  a  unique  degree  the  essen 
tial  beauty  of  both  the  ancient  faith  and  the  New 
Religion, — the  pure,  chastened  meekness  of  the  nun, 
in  whose  life  "obedience,  silence,  humility"  had 
been  the  watchword,  and  the  radiant  spiritual  en 
thusiasm  and  divine  freedom  of  the  early  Protes 
tant  cult, — Charlotte  de  Bourbon  produced,  at  this 
time  in  her  life,  a  profound  impression  upon  all  who 
met  her. 

The  court  of  Heidelberg,  under  the  simple,  unos 
tentatious  rule  of  Friedrich  der  Fromm,  was  char 
acterized  by  democratic  indifference  to  titles  and 
rank.  On  this  occasion  Mademoiselle's  personal 
following  was  represented  by  Jeanne  de  Mousson 
and  Jeannette  Vassetz,  the  young  Jacqueline  Ton- 
torf,  who  had  been  appointed  by  the  electress  to 


367 

immediate  attendance  upon  Mademoiselle,  and  the 
Sieur  de  Minay,  Frangois  d'Averly,  who  remained 
always  with  her  as  her  spiritual  guide  and  counsel 
lor.  His  brother,  George  d'Averly,  had  already 
returned  to  France. 

Although  participating  but  slightly  in  the  conver 
sation,  Charlotte  listened  with  kindling  and  sym 
pathetic  response  to  every  word.  Much  was  said 
of  the  gallant  relief  of  Mons  by  Count  Louis, 
which,  a  month  earlier,  opened  the  new  campaign 
in  Brabant  by  a  stroke  of  stratagem  so  audacious 
that  only  its  success  justified  it.  Alva  could  have 
sworn  that  Louis  was  at  that  very  time  in  the  ten 
nis  court  of  Paris.  De  la  Noue,  the  valiant  Bras 
de  fer,  and  the  Sieur  de  Genlis  were  acting  with 
Louis,  but  the  Spanish,  under  Don  Frederic,  son  of 
Alva,  had  now  laid  siege  to  Mons,  and  the  first  duty 
of  the  prince  on  the  invasion  of  the  Netherlands, 
which  he  was  about  to  lead  in  person,  would  be  to 
relieve  the  Huguenot  and  patriot  forces  now  shut 
up  within  the  city. 

Never  had  the  time  been  so  ripe  for  success  in 
the  cause  of  freedom  for  the  Netherlands  as  now. 
The  people  were  awake  at  last  themselves  ;  almost 
every  town  of  importance  had  declared  for  the 
prince  save  Middelburg,  which  with  its  strong  Span 
ish  garrison  was  closely  invested  by  the  Beggars. 
Alva  himself  was  disheartened,  sick  of  butchery 
and  bloodshed,  conscious  of  the  waning  success  of 
his  savage  policy,  and  the  universal  hatred  of  him 
self,  and  eager  to  be  released. 

The  prince  was  at  the  moment  on  his  way  to 
cross  the  Rhine  at  the  head  of  an  army  of  twenty 
thousand  men.  To  ensure  to  such  a  force  three 
months'  wages  in  advance  had  been  indeed  a  prob 
lem,  but  even  of  this  he  was  sanguine.  He  had 
come  to-day  from  Frankfurt,  where  he  had  suc 
ceeded  in  raising  a  fair  sum  of  money  on  the  last 
remnants  of  his  own  possessions.  Charles  IX.  had 


368 

recently  contributed  two  hundred  thousand  crowns, 
after  which  who  could  doubt  the  seriousness  of  his 
purpose  in  engaging  in  "  the  Flemish  war  "  ? 
Money  was  rolling  in  bravely  from  the  Protestants 
of  England,  although  Elizabeth  herself,  after  her 
wonted  fashion,  was  blowing  hot  and  cold  ;  best  of 
all,  Coligny,  so  high  in  royal  favor  as  now  to  be 
popularly  called  "  King  of  Paris,"  would  soon  join 
him  in  person  in  Hainault. 

Despite  his  natural  reserve  and  his  wonted  silence 
regarding  his  own  matters,  the  high  hopes  of  the 
prince  and  the  enthusiasm  with  which  he  was  now 
again  entering  the  arena  to  fight  for  his  people 
could  not  be  suppressed  in  this  presence. 

Charlotte  de  Bourbon  saw  the  light  in  his  eyes, 
the  firm,  quiet,  yet  intense  purpose  expressed  in 
every  line  of  his  face,  and  yet,  ever  above  and  be 
neath  all  she  saw  that  strange,  brooding  shadow, 
that  indescribable,  unconscious  melancholy. 

Was  Jacqueline  right  when  she  saw  in  this  the 
mark  of  doom,  the  seal  of  martyrdom  set  on  the 
man's  forehead  ? 

The  banquet  over,  the  elector  and  his  guest  with 
drew  for  brief  private  conversation.  Having  closed 
the  door  of  his  audience  room  the  stern  old  elector 
seated  himself  before  a  desk  and  handed  the  prince 
a  letter. 

It  was  written  from  Blois  early  in  May  and  was 
from  Count  Louis. 

The  prince  read  it  through  with  a  swift  and 
startling  change  of  countenance  and  said  : 

"May  I  ask  your  grace  for  some  explanation  ? 
The  matter  is  not  clear  to  me." 

"  Certainly,  I  will  explain.  A  certain  Ruze,  Bish 
op  of  Angers,  wrote  us  early  in  April,  immediately 
indeed  after  it  became  known  to  the  Due  de  Mont- 
pensier  that  his  daughter  had  sought  our  protection, 
a  most  infamous  letter,  impugning 'the  character 
and  motives  of  the  Princess  de  Bourbon  and  having 


369 

the  shameless  effrontery  to  inform  us  that  it  was 
perfectly  understood  at  the  Abbey  of  Jouarre  that 
the  clandestine  departure  of  its  abbess  was  the  out 
come  of  a  liaison  of  long  standing  between  her  and 
Count  Louis  of  Nassau." 

The  eyes  of  the  prince  fairly  blazed  with  fury. 

"  The  Inquisition  has  many  means  of  torture  be 
sides  rack  and  fire,"  he  said  under  his  breath. 

"Yes,  this  was  Ruze's  last  and  deadliest  cruelty 
to  the  young  Abbess  of  Jouarre.  I  sent  his  letter 
back  by  return  messenger  with  no  other  word  than 
that  the  Elector  Palatine  declined  to  receive  further 
communications  from  that  source." 

"  And  you  also  informed  my  brother  of  the  pur 
port  of  the  letter  ?  " 

"  Precisely,  and  this  is  his  reply." 

Again  the  prince  scanned  the  letter  with  strange 
intensity  of  eagerness. 

"  Did  the  miserable  coward  not  hide  behind  his 
profession  he  should  answer  to  me  for  this  base 
slander  in  fair  fight,"  read  the  letter.  "  I  care  little 
for  the  stain  upon  my  own  good  name.  Let  it  pass. 
But  in  this  cruel  lie  the  scoundrel  has  sought  to 
defame  the  whitest-souled  and  most  spotless  virgin 
whom  ever  a  man  worshiped  in  all  reverence  from 
afar.  That  I  do  so  reverence  the  Princess  de  Bour 
bon,  that  I  secretly  and  unknown  to  her  bear  in 
my  heart  a  pure  and  honorable  passion  of  devotion 
toward  her  which  I  have  no  right  in  this  time  of 
crisis  and  uncertainty  to  declare,  I  care  not  to  deny. 
Such  calumny  as  this  craven  priest  dares  to  utter 
I  scorn  to  contradict.  It  is  beneath  contempt.  God 
grant  it  may  never  reach  the  ears  of  her  highness  !  " 

The  prince  looked  up.  "  Gallantly  spoken,  your 
grace,"  he  said,  "  like  the  gallant  junker  he  is.  In 
his  name  let  me  urge  that  the  foul  slander  be  kept 
from  Mademoiselle."  He  spoke  earnestly,  but 
utterance  seemed  difficult  and  forced,  and  his  voice 
was  other  than  his  own. 


370 

"You  can  rely  upon  me  for  that,"  replied  the 
elector,  with  a  grim  compression  of  his  lips.  "  I 
was  ill  disposed  to  give  the  lad  pain,  but  I  thought 
it  right  he  should  have  the  chance  to  speak  a  word 
for  himself.  A  marvelous  fellow  that  young  brother 
of  yours,  my  lord  !  It  seems  none  can  withstand 
him.  He  has  won  over  the  court  of  France,  and 
perchance  the  court  of  England.  Walsingham  writes 
that  he  is  surely  the  rarest  and  goodliest  man  he 
has  looked  upon  since  leaving  England.  Burleigh 
finds  his  speech  irresistible." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  prince.  "Louis  succeeds 
everywhere,  but  never  beyond  his  desert." 

With  those  quiet  words  a  stone  was  laid  above  a 
new-born  hope  quickly  dead  and  quickly  buried. 


DOOM 

"    TEANNE,  my  girl,  Jeanne,  to-night  I  have  the 

^j  strangest  thoughts  !  You  could  not  under 
stand  them.  1  must  not  name  them,"  and 
Charlotte  de  Bourbon,  on  her  knees  in  a  deep  win 
dow-niche  of  her  beautiful  chamber,  in  the  second 
story  of  the  Frauenzimmerbau,  leaned  her  cheek 
aslant  on  her  clasped  hands  and,  turning  her  head 
from  her  faithful  friend,  looked  down  into  the  Court 
of  Honor  flooded  with  moonlight. 

It  was  long  past  midnight.  The  lady  had  ex 
changed  her  court  apparel  for  a  peignoir  of  white 
muslin,  but  seemed  to  have  no  thought  of  retiring, 
and  it  was  thus  that  Jeanne  de  Mousson  had  found 
her,  and  had  seen  bright  drops  gleaming  in  the 
moonlight  on  her  cheeks,  and  so,  fearful  ever  of 
trouble  for  her  lady,  had  knelt  beside  her  with  arms 
clasped  about  her  slender  body,  imploring  to  know 
why  she  wept. 

"  Are  you  sure  I  could  not  understand,  dearest 
lady  ?  "  Jeanne  whispered  wistfully.  "  Did  I  ever 
fail  to  understand  the  sorrows  of  Mademoiselle, 
which  have  been  so  many,  or  the  joys  which  of  old 
were  so  few  ?  " 

"  But  this  is  different,  ma  mie.  This  is  something 
wholly  new,  but  whether  joy  or  sorrow  I  cannot 
understand  myself !  It  is  conflict,  confusion,  per 
plexity.  Howbeit,  it  is  after  all  nothing  to  me." 

There  was  a  wise  little  silence  on  Jeanne's  part. 
Then  Charlotte  said  slowly  : 

"  Did  Captain  Tontorf  once  tell  us  that  his  grace 
of  Orange  has  a  wife  ?  " 


37-* 

.  Of  the  fact  that  Captain  Tontorf  had  a  wife 
Mademoiselle  still  remained  in  ignorance. 

"Yes,  my  lady,  he  has  made  mention  of  the  ex 
istence  of  the  Princess  Anne  of  Saxony,  but  in 
strange  terms." 

"1  remember.  Our  dearest  Madame  d'Albret 
told  me  of  her  also,  long  since,  at  Jouarre.  It  is  ever 
the  same.  Some  mysterious  obscurity  hangs  about 
the  person  of  that  lady.  For  years  now  I  have  not 
even  heard  her  name." 

"  This  much  I  know  from  Captain  Tontorf,"  re 
plied  Jeanne,  "  that  she  is,  or  was,  a  cruel,  heartless 
woman  and  of  a  wild  and  stormy  nature,  and  that 
the  prince  has  never  through  all  his  troubles  found 
in  her  aught  of  sympathy  or  wifely  gentleness" 

"Oh,  Jeanne  !" 

A  little  sob  broke  from  Charlotte's  lips. 

"  That  he  of  all  men,"  she  murmured,  "should 
miss  the  common  good  which  is  the  right  of  the 
humblest,  and  the  happiest — he  with  that  look  in 
his  eyes  that  breaks  one's  heart !  " 

"  How  mean  you,  Mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  Ah,  you  do  not  know  what  that  strange  child, 
Jacqueline,  said  to  me  to-day.  Jeanne,  do  you 
think  she  has  second  sight  ?  "  Charlotte's  blue 
eyes  were  lifted  with  piteous  anxiety  to  her  friend's 
face. 

"  It  may  be,  dearest  lady  ;  I  have  thought  so,  but 
I  cannot  tell.  What  did  she  say  ?  " 

"  That  the  prince  bears  upon  his  brow  the  seal 
of  martyrdom,  the  shadow  of  doom.  She  has  seen 
the  look  in  her  father's  face.  She  says  one  could 
not  mistake  it." 

Each  word  was  spoken  with  the  solemnity  of  ir 
resistible  conviction. 

"Jeanne,"  in  another  breath,  "/  hare  seen  it, 
now,  myself." 

"Oh,  my  lady  !  "  Awed  and  mastered  by  her 
mistress'  mood,  Jeanne  could  say  nothing  more. 


373 

Charlotte  had  risen  and  released  herself  from 
the  girl's  encircling  arms  ;  and  now  as  she  stood, 
tall  and  white  in  the  moonlight,  a  strange  and  lofty 
inspiration  seemed  to  touch  and  calm  her. 

"My  friend,"  she  said  slowly,  "how  could  a 
woman,  if  she  had  a  woman's  heart,  miss  so  glori 
ous  a  vocation  ?  How  could  she  throw  away  sucli 
privilege  as  that  of  dedicating  her  life  to  him,  a  man 
so  far  above  his  fellows,  of  warding  from  him  the 
doom  that  follows  him,  even  if  need  were,  of  dying 
for  him  ?  To  save  a  nation's  leader,  and  so  per 
chance  a  nation's  faith  and  freedom,  oh,  dear 
Jeanne,  what  nobler  vocation  could  one  seek  ? 
How  our  cloister  hopes  pale  and  shrivel  by  the  side 
of  it  !  This  were  great  and  high,  an  inspiration  to 
lift  even  a  weak,  unknown  woman  into  the  fellow 
ship  of  the  great  spirits  who  are  laying  down  their 
lives  in  this  awful  time  for  God  and  men  !  " 

Before  Jeanne  could  respond  a  swift  change  had 
passed  over  her  lady.  From  the  height  of  this  con 
ception,  which  had  lifted  her  for  the  moment  above 
herself,  she  was  swept  by  a  wave  of  yearning,  un 
speakable  emotion,  the  ever  new,  the  ever  old,  and 
throwing  herself  into  the  arms  of  her  friend,  she 
whispered  : 

"May  God  forgive  me  if  this  be  sin,  but,  oh, 
Jeanne,  what  woman  would  not,  if  she  could,  follow 
the  prince  to  the  earth's  end  if  so  she  might  win  one 
look,  one  smile,  one  word  of  such  love  as  souls  like 
his  could  know,  and  that  won,  die  gladly,  knowing 
herself  the  crowned  of  womankind " 

Startled  by  a  slight  sound  at  the  door  Charlotte 
became  silent  and  turned  quickly  to  see  it  gently 
pushed  open  and  Jacqueline  Tontorf,  in  her  simple, 
white  robe,  enter. 

Her  eyelids  were  downcast,  but  tears  flowed  fast 
down  her  cheeks,  and  as  she  walked  with  slow, 
groping  steps,  she  wrung  her  hands  with  a  strange 
motion,  and  a  low,  stifled  moan  came  from  her  lips. 


374 

"  She  is  walking  in  her  sleep,"  whispered  Jeanne. 
"  Pauvrefille !  She  has  before." 

Charlotte  had  thrown  her  arm  tenderly  about  the 
girl. 

"What  is  it,  little  one?"  she  asked  gently. 
"Awake,  Jacqueline." 

"The  gloves,  oh,  the  gloves!"  murmured 
Jacqueline,  in  a  hurried,  agonized  whisper.  "Take 
them  away,  quickly,  or  it  is  too  late.  Oh,  my  lady, 
too  late  !  " 

She  had  opened  her  eyes  now,  and  fixed  them 
upon  Charlotte's  face  with  a  wild,  bewildered  stare. 
Meeting  the  quiet,  subduing  compassion  of  her 
lady's  look,  she  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears  and  sank 
trembling  and  sobbing  upon  a  low  seat. 

"You  were  dreaming,  dear  Jacqueline,"  said 
Charlotte,  caressing  the  maiden's  beautiful  flowing 
hair  with  a  steady  hand,  albeit  her  heart  was  trem 
bling  within  her,  "and  now  you  are  awake  and  it 
is  all  over." 

"  Nay,  nay,  my  lady,  alas,  not  all  over !  "  and 
Jacqueline  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  lifting  her  finger 
in  token  that  they  should  be  silent,  she  stood  in  an 
attitude  of  strained  attention. 

"  Do  you  not  hear  ?  "  she  asked,  after  a  few  sec 
onds  had  passed,  in  which  each  of  the  others  heard 
only  the  loud  beating  of  her  own  heart.  "  It  is  the 
first  muttering  of  a  great  storm.  Soon  it  will  break 
upon  us.  O  God,  have  pity." 

Then,  in  the  distance  and  the  hush  of  the  night, 
a  far,  faint  sound,  as  of  hoofs  upon  the  hard  high 
road  below  the  castle,  was  vaguely  heard,  a  sound 
which  came  nearer  and  nearer,  faster  and  faster. 
The  hoofbeats  were  now  on  the  bridge  over  the 
moat,  they  reverberated  beneath  the  great  vaulted 
arch  of  the  Thorthurm,  and  springing  to  the  window, 
Charlotte  and  Jeanne  saw  a  horse  and  rider  gallop 
into  the  Court  of  Honor  and  draw  up  before  the 
colonnade  of  the  Soldaten-bau. 


375 

"It  is  a  courier  from  France.  His  errand  must 
be  urgent  to  bring  him  at  such  an  hour  as  this. 
Look,  Jeanne,  he  wears  the  livery  of  my  lord  de 
Teligny  !  "  cried  Charlotte.  "  I  believe  his  message 
is  to  me,"  and  calling  to  the  guard  on  duty  at  the 
entrance  of  the  Frauenzimmerbau,  she  bade  him 
summon  the  rider  to  come  hither. 

A  moment  later  Charlotte  stood,  Jeanne  de  Mous- 
son  beside  her,  on  the  moon-flooded  pavement  of 
the  Court  of  Honor,  and  before  her  the  wearied, 
breathless  messenger  who  had  just  leaped  from  his 
horse. 

"  What  news  from  France  ?  " 

"  111  news,  madame,"  replied  the  man.  "  I  have 
letters  from  the  admiral  to  his  excellency,  and  one 
from  my  lord  de  Teligny  to  the  Princess  de  Bour 
bon." 

With  a  word,  Charlotte  extended  her  hand  and 
received  the  letter  which  the  courier  drew  from  a 
case  within  his  doublet.  The  superscription  was 
read  without  difficulty,  although  the  rays  of  the 
moon  had  become  intercepted  by  light  clouds.  The 
dawn  breeze  had  awakened  and  sighed  plaintively 
through  the  vast  arches  and  cloisters  of  the  great 
court. 

The  letter  trembled  in  Charlotte's  hands.  It 
brought  ill  news,  it  seemed,  ill  heralded. 

"Have  you  other  message  ?"  she  asked  falter- 
ingly,  "  message  by  word  of  mouth  ?  " 

"Your  highness,"  said  the  man,  shaking  his 
head,  "my  lord  could  not  write  what  all  they  of 
the  Religion  in  Paris  believe." 

"And  that  is?" 

"That  her  majesty  of  Navarre  met  her  death 
from  poison  in  a  pair  of  gloves  sent  from  Monsieur 
Rene,  the  queen-mother's  perfumer." 

Charlotte  looked  fixedly  at  the  man  for  a  moment, 
as  if  unable  to  comprehend  the  import  of  his  words. 
Then  with  a  gesture  of  dismissal  she  re-entered  the 


3/6 

great  portal  of  the  Frauenzimmerbau  and,  followed 
by  Jeanne  de  Mousson,  walked  slowly  to  her  room, 
where  she  sank  fainting  on  the  bed. 

The  letter  which  lay  for  a  time  unopened,  con 
firmed  the  tragic  utterance  of  the  courier,  in  so  far 
as  it  was  concerned  with  fact  rather  than  with  ru 
mor.  For  Jeanne  d'Albret  had  perished  in  the 
prime  of  her  noble  and  vigorous  womanhood,  and 
over  the  means  and  manner  of  her  exit  from  the 
strange  and  stormy  scenes  of  her  life  hung  that 
day,  and  will  ever  hang,  a  dark  doubt  and  mys 
tery. 

Moving  on  the  highest  plane  of  action,  with  a 
puissant  spirit  and  an  unconquerable  heart,  each 
new  vicissitude  of  life  served  to  develop  a  nobler 
grace  and  a  more  commanding  courage  in  the 
daughter  of  Marguerite  of  Valois.  Even  the  foes  of 
her  faith  were  fain  to  call  her  one  of  the  greatest 
spirits  of  the  epoch.  Certain  is  it  that  no  queen 
of  her  century  was  her  superior  in  virile  force  and 
political  genius,  while  none  was  her  equal  in  purity 
of  life  and  religious  devotion. 

Such  was  the  queen  whom  Catharine  de  Medici 
''hated  with  all  her  cowardly  heart."  Whether 
her  death  were  the  result  of  a  deliberate  plan  on 
the  part  of  Catharine  or  not,  certain  is  it  that  in  the 
three  short  weeks  which  Jeanne  d'Albret  most  re 
luctantly  spent  in  Paris  at  the  dissolute  Valois  court 
her  whole  being  was  poisoned  and  life  embittered 
by  the  heartless  insincerity,  the  shameless  im 
morality,  and  the  unconcealed  sneering  contempt 
for  herself  and  her  religion  shown  by  Catharine 
and  those  who  surrounded  her. 

Her  death  made  her  son  Henri,  king  of  Navarre, 
and  removed  an  awkward  obstacle  in  the  way  of 
the  further  designs  of  the  queen-mother.  His  mar 
riage  with  the  Princess  Marguerite,  which  was  to 
have  taken  place  immediately,  was  now  postponed 
until  the  seventeenth  of  August. 


377 

In  the  early  morning,  which  was  dim  with  rain, 
the  slow  tolling  of  the  great  bell  in  the  Glocken- 
thurm  of  Heidelberg  Castle  announced  the  reception 
of  the  tidings  of  the  death  of  the  Queen  of  Navarre 
by  the  elector. 

As  the  sounds  died  away  Charlotte  de  Bourbon 
lifted  her  white  face  from  the  pillow,  for  sorrow  had 
prostrated  her  for  the  time,  and  seemed  listening. 
She  heard  another  sound. 

"Jeanne,"  she  said  gently,  "look  out  and  tell 
me  what  is  passing  below.  I  hear  the  noise  of  men 
and  horses  in  motion." 

"  Yes,  dear  lady,"  said  Jeanne  softly  ;  "  it  is  the 
escort  of  the  Prince  of  Orange.  The  men  are 
mounted  and  are  waiting  now  near  the  great  gate." 

"  Do  you  see  the  prince  ?  " 

A  faint  flush  came  into  the  pale  cheeks  with  the 
words. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jeanne,  "  he  stands  with  the  elector 
and  madame  in  the  portico  of  the  Otto-Heinrichs- 
bau.  Duke  Christoph  and  Kunigunde  are  with 
them.  He  is  taking  leave  of  them." 

"  1  did  not  think  he  had  left  so  soon,"  murmured 
Charlotte. 

"  A  groom  holds  his  horse  just  before  the  steps," 
proceeded  Jeanne.  "  He  is  speaking  to  Madame, 
but  his  looks  are  cast  in  this  direction.  Now  he  is 
mounting.  He  turns  this  way.  Ah,  my  lady,  he 
is  like  a  man  who  has  received  a  heavy  blow. 
Hardly  is  your  own  face  paler  or  more  stricken. 
He  is  bending  low  in  his  saddle,  saluting  their  ex 
cellencies.  Now  he  gallops  across  the  court  and  is 
close  at  hand  below.  Ah,  his  eyes  are  lifted.  Lis 
ten  !  "  and  Jeanne  drew  back  from  the  window. 

The  sound  of  hoofs  rang  clear  from  the  pavement 
of  the  Court  of  Honor  and  filled  the  ears  of  both 
the  listening  maidens  for  a  moment.  Swiftly  re 
ceding  the  sounds  grew  duller  and  more  distant  and 
were  presently  lost. 


378 

"  Gone  without  a  word,"  Charlotte  murmured 
faintly.  "  I  may  never  see  his  face  again." 

"  Yes,  dearest  lady,"  said  Jeanne,  sitting  on  the 
bed's  edge  and  smoothing  the  brightness  of  Made 
moiselle's  hair  from  her  throbbing  temples,  "  but 
not  without  a  look.  I  can  read  the  meaning  in  a 
brave  man's  eyes.  Trust  me,  you  will  see  the  face 
of  my  lord  again  ;  but  first  there  is  all  the  world  to 
lose  or  win.  Sleep  now,  and  be  glad  that  our  pre 
cious  queen  sleeps,  no  more  to  suffer  sin  and  sor 
row." 

The  prince  rode  slowly  in  the  mist  and  rain  down 
the  steep  and  slippery  declivity  into  the  town  of 
Heidelberg  and  out  through  the  gates  down  the 
valley  Rhinewards. 

A  heavy  oppression  was  on  his  heart,  for  he  was 
leaving  without  word  or  sign  to  her  whose  radi 
ant  loveliness  and  innocent  joy  he  knew  to  be 
clouded  now  with  sudden  grievous  sorrow.  He 
could  have  tarried  yet  a  few  hours,  could  have  seen 
perhaps  and  spoken  with  the  Lady  Charlotte  and 
told  her  the  grief  which  his  heart  held  for  her  in 
this  loss  of  her  "  perfect  friend  "  and  second  mother, 
for  whom,  as  the  elector  phrased  it,  she  "  so  marvel- 
ously  grieved,"  but  he  did  not  trust  himself  so  to 
do. 

Could  he  look  again  into  those  blue  eyes,  whether 
clear  as  he  had  seen  them  or  dimmed  by  tears  of 
poignant  sorrow  and  keep  his  own  secret  ?  And 
that  secret  must  be  kept  at  all  hazards  since  his 
brother's  heart  had  been  so  unexpectedly  revealed 
to  him.  What  then  ?  No  sacrifice  could  be  over- 
great  for  Louis,  the  loyal,  generous  brother  who 
would  have  died  for  him  with  a  smile  on  his  lips 
any  day,  as  he  well  knew. 

Let  it  pass  with  other  hopes  !  Only  to  have 
looked  into  the  pure  face  and  pure  heart  of  the 
Bourbon  maiden  was  a  consecration.  And  what  of 


379 

this  mysterious  death  of  her  majesty  of  Navarre  ? 
What  did  it  portend  to  his  own  good  cause,  the 
cause  of  freedom  and  of  the  faith  ?  Over-timely 
was  it  for  the  Catholic  party,  and  if  the  dark  rumor 
were  true  concerning  the  manner  of  the  queen's 
death,  what  was  the  pledged  word  of  Charles  and 
Catharine  de  Medici  worth  in  his  own  behalf  ?  A 
dark  riddle  and  no  answer  came  that  day  as  the 
prince  rode  on  his  way  to  join  his  troops  and  lead 
them  forward  into  the  Netherlands. 

The  summer,  however,  did  not  pass  without  an 
answer,  an  answer  terrible,  appalling,  and  in  a  sense 
final,  to  all  the  larger  hopes  of  Christendom  forever. 

Having  crossed  the  Rhine  early  in  July,  captured 
Roermond  and  advanced  victoriously  through  Bra 
bant,  his  garrisons  received  and  his  authority 
accepted  by  the  towns  through  which  he  passed,  the 
prince  hastened  on  toward  Mons  to  raise  the  siege 
and  release  Count  Louis  and  his  gallant  Huguenot 
companions  within  the  beleaguered  city. 

On  August  eleventh,  a  week  before  the  Paris 
wedding,  he  writes  to  his  brother  John  at  Dillen- 
burg: 

"  /  must  not  fail  to  tell  you  that  to-day  I  had  letters 
from  the  admiral  (Coligny}  informing  me  that  .  .  . 
he  was  levying  twelve  thousand  arquebusiers  and  three 
thousand  horse,  intending  to  come  himself,  something 
that  /  hope  will  be  a  great  aid  to  us.  The  admiral 
advises  me  not  to  enter  lightly  into  an  engagement 
with  the  enemy,  until  by  the  grace  of  God  we  can  join 
our  forces.  .  .  We  may  see  how  miraculously  God  de 
fends  our  people  and  makes  us  hope  that,  in  spite  of 
the  malice  of  our  enemies,  he  will  bring  our  cause  to  a 
good  and  happy  end,  to  the  advancement  of  his  glory 
and  the  deliverance  of  so  many  Christians  from  unjust 
oppression." 

The  letter  of  Coligny,  alluded  to  by  the  prince, 
was  written  with  the  full  sanction  and  approval  of 


380 

Charles  IX.,  with  whom  he  was  apparently  high  in 
favor. 

But  hardly  had  Coligny  thus  written,  when  it 
became  apparent  that  the  weak  and  fitful  king  had 
already  grown  cold  toward  the  Flemish  project. 
His  mother's  influence  was  at  work,  for  the  time 
was  nearly  ripe  for  Catharine  de  Medici  to  show 
her  hand. 

The  ineffaceable  blot  on  the  pages  of  history 
which  the  next  fortnight  was  to  bring  was  not, 
however,  the  work  of  one  woman  of  wicked  will 
alone.  The  undying  shame  of  it  must  rest  also 
upon  the  duplicity,  the  double-dealing,  the  cowardly 
shiftiness  of  another  woman,  the  Protestant  Queen 
of  England. 

While  all  the  forces  of  Protestantism  at  that 
crisis,  and  even  the  wavering  and  selfish  Catharine, 
were  looking  to  Elizabeth  for  her  powerful  aid  in 
the  struggle  against  Spain,  dark  rumors  went 
abroad  that  the  Queen  of  England  was  in  reality 
holding  a  treacherous  correspondence  with  Alva 
himself,  with  the  intent  of  seizing  the  Zeeland  city 
of  Flushing,  now  in  the  hands  of  the  patriots,  and 
betraying  it  into  the  hands  of  Spain. 

Such  rumors  as  these  reaching  Catharine  de 
Medici,  drove  her  into  a  panic.  She  found  herself 
forced  by  her  own  and  her  son's  pledges,  to  embark, 
apparently  single-handed,  on  the  dangerous  enter 
prise  of  a  war  with  Spain.  England  was  playing 
her  false.  All  the  Catholic  powers  would  be  ar 
rayed  against  her,  and  even  the  Protestant  German 
princes,  aside  from  the  Elector  Palatine,  being  sub 
ject  to  the  emperor,  whose  daughter  Philip  of  Spain 
had  now  married,  had  already  withdrawn  from  the 
Prince  of  Orange. 

Thus  cornered,  Catharine  saw  one  speedy,  bold, 
and  yet  effective  means  of  release.  This  means 
she  employed,  harking  back  to  the  bloody  councils 
of  Alva  at  Bayonne,  in  1565. 


While  Louis  of  Nassau  was  patiently  awaiting 
release  in  the  city  of  Mons,  and  his  brother  was 
advancing  as  rapidly  as  his  ill-disciplined  and  ill- 
paid  army  would  permit,  eagerly  awaiting  the 
coming  of  Coligny  and  his  force,  there  fell  upon 
them  both,  upon  the  hosts  of  Protestantism,  upon 
all  Europe,  the  "sledge-hammer  blow"  of  the 
butchery  of  St.  Bartholomew,  under  which  all 
Christendom  reeled  and  staggered. 

Coligny  would  never  lead  an  army  against  the 
dark  tyranny  of  Spain.  His  body,  stabbed  through 
the  breast,  was  thrown  from  an  upper  window  of 
the  house  where  he  lodged  into  the  Rue  de  Ber- 
thesy,  and  for  three  days  that  body  was  dragged 
through  the  streets  by  the  canaille  of  Paris.  The 
head  of  the  noble  old  Christian  warrior,  severed 
from  the  trunk,  was  sent  to  the  Cardinal  de  Lor 
raine,  who  chanced  to  be  in  Rome.  Among  the 
first  to  fall  was  the  noble  lord  de  Teligny,  whose 
fair  young  wife,  Louise  de  Coligny,  bride  of  but  a 
year,  thus  saw  her  father  and  her  husband  perish 
in  a  single  night.  Again  and  again,  it  is  said,  those 
sent  to  murder  the  chivalrous  young  nobleman, 
"  overcome  by  compassion  for  his  youth  and  manly 
beauty,  or  by  respect  for  his  graceful  manners  and 
extraordinary  learning,"  departed,  laying  no  hand 
upon  him.  A  shot  from  an  arquebus,  fired  from 
the  street  by  a  guard,  struck  him  down,  however, 
but  too  speedily. 

Among  the  bloodiest  and  most  insatiable  of  the 
assassins  was  the  Due  de  Montpensier,  and  no 
court  lady  reveled  in  the  carnival  of  blood  with  the 
wild  abandon  of  his  young  Wife,  Catherine  de  Lor 
raine. 

With  full  effect  the  unparalleled  crime  of  St.  Bar 
tholomew's  Eve,  in  which  all  the  Huguenot  leaders 
were  foully  murdered,  fell  upon  the  campaign  of 
the  Nassaus  in  the  Netherlands. 

"  //  has  pleased  God,"  wrote  the  prince,  "  to  take 


382 

away  every  hope  which  we  could  have  founded  upon 
man;  the  king  (Charles  IX.)  has  published  that  the 
massacre  was  by  his  orders,  and  has  forbidden  all  his 
subjects,  upon  pain  of  death,  to  assist  me;  he  has, 
moreover,  sent  succour  to  Alva.  Had  it  not  been  for 
this,  we  had  been  masters  of  the  duke,  and  should 
have  made  him  capitulate  at  our  pleasure." 

The  troops  of  the  prince,  finding  him  unsupported 
and  unable  to  pay  them  promptly,  mutinied  and 
threatened  to  betray  him  into  the  hands  of  Alva. 

Unsuccessful  in  his  attempt  to  relieve  Mons, 
where  Louis  lay  confined  with  fever,  the  prince 
was  forced  to  flee  for  his  life,  after  the  rout  at  Her- 
migny.  Louis,  heart-broken  at  the  event  of  St. 
Bartholomew,  in  which  scores  of  his  friends  perished, 
was  released  by  Alva  after  the  fall  of  Mons,  for 
even  the  Duke's  harsh  spirit  was  not  proof  against 
the  singular  charm  of  the  count.  He  suffered  him 
to  be  carried  back  to  Dillenburg  on  a  litter,  and  his 
fond  mother  nursed  him  back  to  life. 

The  prince,  meanwhile,  retreated  to  Zwolle,  the 
capital  of  Overyssel,  whence  he  wrote  to  his  brother 
John,  October  eighteenth:  "/  have  determined  to 
go  over  to  Holland  and  Zeeland  to  maintain  their  in 
terests,  so  far  as  may  be  possible,  purposing  there  to 
make  my  sepulchre." 

The  prophecy  was  of  literal  fulfillment.  Never 
again  did  the  prince  go  beyond  the  borders  of  the 
Netherlands.  His  lot  was  cast  with  the  land  of  his 
adoption  from  that  day  until  the  bitter  end.  He  had 
seen  again  a  powerful  army,  raised  by  incredible 
sacrifice  and  personal  labor,  collapse  almost  without 
a  blow  ;  the  great  combination  with  the  court  of 
France,  in  wnich  he  had  trusted,  and  which  had 
been  built  up  by  years  of  negotiation,  had  been 
shattered  in  a  single  night  of  treason  and  horror. 
Again  his  powerful  friends  fell  away,  and  insult  and 
reproach  fell  thick  and  fast  upon  his  head. 

Never  in  the  darkest  night  of  his  humiliation,  in 


383 

the  year  1568,  had  the  prince  known  the  depth  be 
low  the  depth  of  defeat  and  disappointment  which 
his  soul  now  sounded.  He  had  been  a  profoundly 
ambitious  man,  not  unlawfully  or  wholly  selfishly 
ambitious,  but  still  cherishing  ardent  hope  and  de 
sire  to  carry  out  in  a  brilliant  maturity  the  promise 
of  his  brilliant  youth. 

But,  as  heretofore,  the  prince  had  been  ever 
greatest  when  his  fortunes  were  at  their  lowest, 
so  in  this  extremity  the  true  grandeur  of  the  man 
shone  forth. 

Stripped  finally  and  forever  of  the  last  trappings 
of  worldly  splendor,  he  who  had  been  the  cousin  of 
emperors  and  the  comrade  of  kings,  felt  at  last  the 
great  primitive  bond  of  humanity,  the  sense  of  the 
equality  of  all  men  before  God,  and  with  cheer 
ful  courage  and  with  what  one  who  observed  him 
names  "an  incredible  sweetness,"  he  made  com 
mon  cause  from  this  time  onward  with  the  simple 
burghers  of  Delft  and  of  Dordrecht  and  the  other 
towns. 

Alone  on  this  his  narrow  isthmus,  the  "historic 
strip  of  swamp  "  to  which  his  horizon  was  now  for 
the  time  bounded,  the  prince  girded  himself  for 
"  single  combat  with  the  great  Spanish  monarchy," 
not  for  a  moment  deceived  as  to  the  terrible  odds 
against  which  he  must  fight.  With  unfaltering  de 
votion  he  set  himself  to  the  defense  of  the  towns 
of  Holland  and  Zeeland  from  the  onward  march  of 
the  now  victorious  Alva. 

"  If  he  prove  too  strong  for  its,"  he  cries  in  an  im 
passioned  letter  to  the  King  of  Spain,  "  we  will  rather 
die  an  honorable  death  and  leave  a  praiseworthy  fame, 
than  bend  our  necks  and  reduce  our  dear  Fatherland 
to  such  slavery.  Herein  are  all  our  cities  pledged  to 
each  other  to  stand  every  siege,  to  dare  to  the  utmost, 
to  endure  every  possible  misery,  yea,  rather  to  set  fire  to 
all  our  homes  and  be  consumed  into  ashes  together, 
than  ever  submit  to  the  decrees  of  this  cruel  tyrant.'' 


384 

Small  wonder  that  the  people  to  whose  cause  he 
thus  gave  himself  "worshiped  the  prince  as  if  he 
were  their  Messiah  !  " 

He  who  had  once  seen  great  things  for  himself 
saw  them  now  no  more  ;  but  his  vision,  purified  in 
anguish  and  humiliation,  had  become  clearer  and 
he  endured  henceforth  as  seeing  the  invisible. 

When  asked  by  his  despairing  officers  if  he  had 
some  secret  alliance  with  great  kings  or  potentates, 
he  replied  : 

"  When  I  took  in  hand  the  defense  of  these  oppressed 
provinces,  I  formed  an  alliance  with  the  mightiest  of  all 
potentates,  the  King  of  kings." 


XXXIV 
ROUBICHON  ONCE  MORE 

IT  was  1574,  the  second  year  of  the  War  of  the 
Towns.  The  Duke  of  Alva  had  departed  from 
the  Provinces  forever,  deploring  bitterly  that 
he  had  not  gained  the  approbation  of  his  king  while 
he  had  incurred  the  malevolence  and  hatred  of 
every  individual  in  the  country.  Don  Luis  de  Re- 
quesens,  who  had  succeeded  the  bloody  duke,  found 
upon  his  arrival  that  his  most  pressing  duty  was  the 
relief  of  the  besieged  city  of  Middelburg,  which  alone 
in  the  island  of  Walcheren  was  still  held  by  Mon- 
dragon  for  the  King  of  Spain.  For  this  purpose 
seventy-five  Spanish  ships  were  collected  at  Bergen 
op  Zoom  under  command  of  Julian  Romero,  while 
a  smaller  fleet  was  assembled  at  Antwerp  under 
d'Avila.  Both  fleets  were  provisioned  for  the  starv 
ing  garrison  in  Middelburg,  and  their  duty  was  to 
effect  a  junction  of  forces  as  speedily  as  possible. 

The  early  twilight  of  a  January  day  was  settling 
over  the  besieged  city.  In  the  old  Tontorf  mansion 
in  the  Lange  Delft  light  already  shone  from  the 
windows  of  the  great  oak-wainscoted  room,  once 
known  by  its  owners  as  the  "  Gossaert-Saal." 

The  portrait  of  the  Master  of  the  Rolls,  Adolf 
Hardinck,  once  the  glory  of  the  place,  had  disap 
peared,  having  been  destroyed  by  the  Spaniards, 
and  with  it  the  other  portraits,  the  finely  carved 
cabinets,  the  plate  and  crystal  which  adorned  the 
room.  The  massive  table,  however,  which  still 
held  the  central  space,  was  the  one  at  which  Niko- 
laas  Tontorf,  nine  years  ago  sat  with  wife  and 
children  around  him  :  and  in  the  place  of  the  master- 

z  385 


386 

printer,  yes  in  his  very  chair,  sat  the  Spanish  vet 
eran  Mondragon,  who  stoutly  defended  the  city 
against  the  besieging  Beggar  forces  that  surrounded 
it  by  land  and  sea. 

A  great  fire  roared  up  Nikolaas  Tontorf 's  hospita 
ble  chimney  giving  an  aspect  of  cheer  to  the  other 
wise  dreary  room  which,  littered  with  officers'  ac 
coutrements,  pieces  of  armor,  pistols,  arquebuses, 
and  piles  of  dispatches,  had  little  left  of  the  stately 
beauty,  the  shining  cleanliness,  and  exquisite  order 
which  belonged  to  it  in  the  lifetime  of  Wendel- 
mutha  Tontorf. 

Mondragon,  a  careworn,  grizzled  warrior,  of  coun 
tenance  severe  and  fiery  glance,  looked  up  from 
the  letter  he  was  writing  with  a  rapid  hand  and 
mouth  hard  set.  A  young  officer,  whose  uniform 
hung  loosely  on  his  lean  shrunken  frame  and  whose 
famished  eyes  looked  out  mournfully  from  their 
bony  sockets  had  entered  the  room. 

"What  is  it,  captain?"  Mondragon  asked,  im 
patient  of  interruption. 

"  Your  pardon,  your  excellency,  but  a  sailor  has 
made  his  way  through  the  enemy's  lines,"  replied 
the  younger  man. 

"  Whence  comes  he  ?  " 

"  According  to  his  story,  from  the  fleet  of  General 
d'Avila." 

"  Hah  !  is  it  so  ?  "  exclaimed  Mondragon,  starting 
to  his  feet.  "  Is  it  then  confirmed  that  the  ships 
seen  off  Flushing  are  Spanish  ?  " 

"Yes,  your  excellency.  We  have  received  sig~ 
nals  which  we  believe  unmistakable." 

The  old  warrior's  face  brightened.  "  Call  the 
fellow  in  instantly,  Trenchart !  "  he  cried. 

In  another  moment  there  stood  before  the  Span 
ish  general  a  tall,  sinewy  sailor  in  Spanish  uniform, 
gaunt-eyed  and  brown  indeed  as  a  Spaniard,  with 
cheeks  as  hollow  as  Trenchart's  and  heavy  browr* 
beard  and  moustachios. 


387 

"  Your  name,  sir  ?  "  demanded  Mondragon,  fixing 
his  fiery  eyes  full  upon  the  stranger. 

"  Roubichon,  excellency." 

"  You  come  from  the  fleet  of  d'Avila  ?  " 

The  reply  was  a  brief,  respectful  bow. 

"  At  your  service,  excellency." 

"  What  are  your  credentials  ?  " 

"  Nothing  save  the  dangers  1  have  faced  to  come 
hither.  I  was  dared  to  do  it  by  my  shipmates,  and 
believed  his  excellency  would  honor  my  effort  with 
his  confidence,  and  permit  me  to  serve  him." 

Looking  sternly  at  the  speaker,  something  in  the 
sturdy  manliness  of  his  bearing  seemed  to  satisfy 
the  veteran.  With  a  sound  between  a  growl  and 
a  greeting  he  proceeded  with  his  questions. 

"  How  many  ships  do  you  number  ?  " 

"  Five  and  twenty." 

"  That  is  well.  We  had  counted  but  a  score. 
With  what  purpose  do  they  lie  off  Flushing  ?  " 

"To  learn  how  much  longer  your  garrison  can 
stand  the  siege." 

Mondragon  laughed  shortly. 

"  Tell  your  master  that  he  can  perhaps  reckon 
for  himself.  The  death  rate  among  my  men  from 
starvation  is  twenty  a  day." 

"  I  will  tell  my  master." 

"  In  the  month  since  Christmas  a  thousand  souls 
have  perished  within  these  walls.  Our  daily  fare 
is  linseed  husks  with  an  occasional  ragout  of  mice 
or  dog-flesh.  Tell  your  master  I  invite  him  to  keep 
the  feast  of  St.  Blasius  with  me.  I  can  perhaps 
make  shift  to  dine  him  on  a  young  kitten  or  a  well- 
fed  rat  if  it  suits  his  stomach." 

Roubichon  did  not  reply  at  once.  His  eyes  had 
strayed  momentarily  from  the  face  of  the  old  gen 
eral  and  in  that  one  instant  had  swept  the  room 
with  a  glance  of  devouring  eagerness.  With  a  cu 
rious  thickness  in  his  utterance  he  said  : 

"  My  master,  the  Senor  d'Avila,  fearing  that  you 


388 

must  be  in  extremity  says  that  if  he  cannot  effect 
a  union  with  the  fleet  of  Romero  in  a  few  days  he 
would  beg  to  advise  that  you  capitulate." 

The  old  man's  face  grew  grim. 

"  Where  is  Romero  ?  know  you  ?  " 

"  Nay,  excellency,  that  is  what  above  all  things 
my  master  desires  most  to  know.  If  they  can  meet, 
a  bold  blow  can  be  struck,  and  will  be  speedily. 
Of  that  he  begs  you  to  rest  assured." 

"Meanwhile,  what  can  d'Avila  do  for  us  ?  Has 
he  strength  enough  to  force  passage  through  the 
Beggar  fleet  ?  " 

"Nay,  excellency.  What  are  five  and  twenty 
ships  when  it  comes  to  meeting  those  devils  ?  " 

"  True,"  said  Mondragon,  nodding  thoughtfully. 

After  a  moment's  reflection  he  spoke  again. 

"Well,  my  brave  fellow,"  he  said,  "it  is  at 
least  something  to  know  that  our  fellow-soldiers 
have  a  heart  to  come  to  our  defense.  Your  com 
ing  is  welcome,  and  also  timely,  since  I  was  about 
dispatching  this  letter,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  sheet 
on  the  table  beside  him,  "and  dreaded  to  send  one 
of  my  poor  famished  fellows  on  so  perilous  an 
errand  as  to  take  it  through  the  enemy's  lines." 

"  I  can  take  it  to  my  master  in  brief  time,  senor, 
and  will  do  it  gladly." 

"  How  will  you  make  your  way  through  the 
lines  ?  " 

"As  I  came;  swimming  where  there  is  water, 
running  where  there  is  land,  fighting  where  there 
is  need  of  it." 

A  sombre  smile  relaxed  the  features  of  the  soldier. 

"  Well  answered,"  he  said  grimly.  Turning 
then  to  Trenchart,  who  had  stood  in  silence  at  the 
closed  door  throughout  the  interview,  he  said  : 

"  Send  in  some  of  our  famine  fare  for  this  brave 
fellow,  captain,"  and  as  Trenchart  left  the  room,  he 
added : 

"We  have  an  old  Dutch  woman  who  seems  to 


belong  to  the  house  to  cook  for  our  staff.  She  can 
make  a  very  fair  mess  of  a  haunch  of  dog  or  cat  on 
occasion.  We  will  share  what  we  have  with  you, 
sir.  Pray  be  seated." 

A  moment  later  Trenchart  re-entered  the  room 
closely  followed  by  a  tidy  old  woman  in  white  cap 
and  apron,  bearing  a  tray  of  food. 

In  the  wrinkled  visage  of  this  woman  Norbert 
Tontorf  at  once,  with  a  wild  throb  of  his  heart, 
recognized  Hendrika,  the  old  family  servant  of  his 
father's  house. 

In  another  instant  he  grew  calm  for  well  he  knew 
that  in  his  present  self  the  faithful  soul  could  never 
recognize  the  blithe,  blonde,  ruddy-cheeked  Dutch 
lad,  once  her  pride  and  darling. 

Without  even  looking  at  him,  moving  with  a  curi 
ous  mechanical  submissiveness,  Hendrika  placed 
the  food  before  him,  and  was  about  to  withdraw 
when  Mondragon  signalled  to  her  to  wait. 

"Will  you  have  wine  or  spirits,  my  man  ?  "  he 
asked  with  gruff  kindliness.  "  I  have  still  some 
thing  left  of  my  private  store." 

"  Neither,  thank  you,  excellency." 

Norbert's  back  was  turned  toward  Hendrika. 
She  could  not  see  his  face,  and  all  the  more  for 
that  reason  the  sound  of  his  voice  broke  on  her  ears 
with  startling  effect. 

Clasping  her  hands  together  in  a  wild  gesture  of 
amazed  recognition,  she  darted  forward,  fixed  her 
eyes  on  his  averted  face  and  then,  seeing  in  it  for  all 
its  ruggedness  some  witness  to  his  identity  which 
only  a  loving  heart  could  have  found,  and  forgetting 
all  else  in  her  joy  she  threw  herself  on  her  knees 
before  him,  crying  out : 

"Oh,  Master  Norbert,  it  is  yourself,  come  back 
again  to  your  old  home  and  poor  old  Hendrika  after 
all  these  weary  years  !  " 

Looking  up  at  the  old  general  with  the  familiarity 
of  her  senile  weakness,  she  added  with  tears  : 


390 

"  I  have  held  him  on  my  bosom,  your  excellency, 
when  he  was  but  a  babe,  in  this  very  room  !  " 

Norbert,  white  through  his  sunburned  skin,  rose 
and  lifted  the  poor  woman  gently  to  her  feet. 

Mondragon  had  risen  also. 

"What  means  this,  sir?"  he  asked  sternly. 
"  A  son  of  this  house  is  no  Spaniard,  nor  even  a 
Clipper.  So  much  I  know.  Trenchart,  call  up 
your  men.  Methinks  our  good  Hendrika  has  un 
masked  a  spy." 

Trenchart  left  the  room  on  the  instant. 

"Pardon  me,  your  excellency,  but  a  moment," 
said  Norbert  quietly.  "  Hendrika,"  turning  to  the 
trembling  and  bewildered  creature,  "  we  will  meet 
again  ;  but  now  this  gentleman  and  I  have  matters 
of  importance  to  discuss." 

Taking  her  hand  then,  while  Mondragon  gazed 
in  mute  amazement,  he  led  her  gently  to  the  door, 
and  having  dismissed  her  with  a  smile,  turned  and 
faced  the  Spanish  general. 

"Excellency,  I  am  your  prisoner,"  he  said  then. 

Marveling  much  at  his  composure  and  the  firm 
ness  of  his  bearing,  Mondragon  exclaimed  : 

"  By  our  Lady,  then,  who  is  our  prisoner,  who 
wears  a  Spanish  uniform,  bears  a  French  name, 
and  seems  to  have  been  born  a  Dutchman  ?  " 

"  Your  excellency,"  Norbert  said,  almost  as  if  re 
lieved  to  speak  at  last  in  his  true  character,  "  I  was 
born  indeed,  in  this  very  house,  and  grew  up  at  this 
very  fireside,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  still  glow 
ing  chimney.  "  From  this  house  my  father,  my 
mother,  and  my  young  sister  were  led  to  cruel 
death  at  the  hands  of  traitors,  and  this,  which  was 
aforetime  the  happiest  home  in  all  Zeeland,  was  lost 
to  me  forever.  If  I  have  come  back  here  to  die  I  can 
at  least  say  that  there  is  no  spot  on  earth  where  I 
would  sooner  die,"  and  he  folded  his  arms  across 
his  breast,  and  with  mouth  firm  set  and  steadfast 
look  faced  the  Spanish  general. 


"  Small  doubt  about  your  dying,"  said  Mondragon 
grimly.  "We  give  but  short  shrift  to  spies,  my 
man,  however  cleverly  they  play  their  parts." 

At  a  signal  from  Trenchart  several  soldiers  at 
once  entered  the  room,  and  without  further  parley 
Norbert  found  himself  hurried  through  the  familiar 
hall  into  the  courtyard.  Crossing  this,  his  captors 
drew  him  into  the  loggia,  where  stood  Hendrika 
herself  beating  her  breast  and  crying  aloud  at  the 
fate  she  had  brought  upon  the  son  of  her  beloved 
master. 

Norbert  had  only  time  for  a  look  at  the  broken 
hearted  woman,  but  it  was  a  look  in  which  affection 
was  clouded  by  no  reproach.  He  had  not  learned 
in  the  school  of  William  the  Silent  all  these  years 
in  vain. 

With  rude  urgency  Norbert  was  now  led  down 
the  lowest  stairway  and  thrust  into  the  windowless 
subterranean  room  which  had  served  as  the  secret 
printing  room  of  Nikolaas  Tontorf. 

Having  searched  him  for  weapons  and  money, 
and  stripped  him  of  both  with  many  curses,  the 
soldiers  told  him  that  the  general  had  said  since  he 
was  fain  to  die  in  his  old  home  he  would  grant  him 
the  privilege  by  means  of  a  length  of  good  hemp 
rope  at  sunrise. 

With  this  grim  sentence,  they  closed  and  bolted 
the  heavy  door. 

Norbert  groped  his  way  about  the  well-remem 
bered  chamber  with  strangely  mingled  feelings. 
The  presses,  rough  with  rust  and  dust-covered, 
stood  in  their  former  places.  Save  for  them  the 
room  was  empty.  Doubtless  it  was  used  ROW 
solely  as  a  prison. 

How  often  in  his  far-off,  happy  boyhood  had  he 
worked  at  those  same  presses  by  his  father's  side, 
turning  out  the  pages  of  the  coveted  Bibles  in  the 
long  night  watches !  And  now  he  stood  again 
within  those  heavy  walls,  alone  save  for  memories, 


under  sure  sentence  of  immediate  death,  a  storm- 
tested,  weary,  and  yet  undaunted  man. 

The  slow  hours  passed.  No  sound  broke  the 
breathless  hush  of  the  place  save  the  monotonous 
tread  of  the  soldier  on  guard  before  his  door. 

A  muffled  sound  of  voices  indicated  when  the 
watch  was  changed,  and  Norbert  believed  this  to 
mark  the  hour  of  midnight.  Waiting  until  all  was 
still  again  save  for  the  steady  pacing  of  the  guard, 
he  groped  his  way  along  the  wall  as  he  had  already 
done  before  in  the  darkness,  until  his  finger  touched 
the  secret  spring  in  the  invisible  panel,  known  now, 
as  he  believed,  to  no  living  soul  on  earth  save  him 
self. 

Instantly  the  panel  slipped  aside  and  access  was 
laid  open  to  the  hidden  repository  of  Nikolaas 
Tontorf's  work.  The  sliding  shelves  Norbert  found 
to  be  still  heavily  loaded  with  books,  doubtless  ex 
actly  as  his  father  had  piled  them  there  at  the  close 
of  his  last  night's  work.  Strange,  hidden,  and  yet 
eloquent  monument  to  the  persistent  devotion  of 
the  man  ! 

Norbert  felt  the  ropes.  He  shook  them  softly. 
They  were  firm  and  stout  as  ever,  for  all  the  silent 
years  in  which  they  had  hung  useless.  Yes,  he 
could  dare  trust  himself  to  them.  He  entered  and 
touched  the  panel  behind  him,  which  slipped  back 
at  once  to  its  proper  place  with  a  soft  click  of  the 
spring.  Then,  sailor  fashion,  Norbert  climbed  by 
the  ropes  to  the  closet  above,  and,  down  on  his 
hands  and  knees,  he  felt  for  the  spring  which  should 
release  him  from  his  prison,  though  it  might  be  into 
yet  more  imminent  peril. 

Having  found  the  spring,  he  realized  what,  for  the 
time  being,  he  had  forgotten,  that  it  must  be  ma 
nipulated  from  without.  No  pressure  from  within 
could  serve  to  stir  it  a  hair's  breadth. 

The  perspiration  broke  forth  in  cold  drops  on 
Norbert's  forehead.  Had  he  escaped  the  hands 


393 

of  the  Spaniards  but  to  bury  himself  in  a  living 
tomb? 

It  could  not  be.  From  the  inner  lining  of  his 
doublet  he  drew  out  a  stout  knife  which  had  escaped 
the  vigilance  of  the  soldiers.  Down  on  his  knees 
again  he  found  the  small  metal  bar  of  the  spring 
and  began  the  process  of  sawing  it  in  twain. 

A  long  process  it  proved  to  be  and  full  of  inde 
scribable  suspense,  since  any  moment  might  reveal 
to  the  man  on  guard  below  that  his  cell  was  empty 
and  an  alarm  be  given.  The  sickening,  mouldy  va 
pors  in  the  narrow,  stifling  closet,  the  blackness  of 
darkness  in  which  he  was  enshrouded,  added  to  the 
overpowering  difficulty  of  his  task. 

His  brain  grew  dizzy,  breathing  became  well-nigh 
impossible,  death  itself  seemed  welcome  and  no 
longer  to  be  fought,  when  in  some  far  corner  of  his 
brain  a  sweet,  gay  voice  seemed  to  sing: 

"  If  my  lover  gentle  prove, 

Knightly,  brave,  and  true  to  love, 
Slave  and  servant  will  I  be ; 
Tell  me,  tell  me,  am  1  true?" 

"Yes,  Jeanne,"  he  murmured,  in  a  choking 
whisper,  "your  lover  will  hold  himself  brave  and 
knightly  for  your  sweet  sake." 

In  another  five  minutes  the  knife  fell  from  his 
benumbed  hand,  but  it  had  done  its  work,  the 
spring  was  severed. 

Noiselessly  the  panel  slid  aside,  and  Norbert, 
slipping  behind  a  chest,  was  at  once  within  what 
had  been  the  inner  room  of  his  father's  private 
office.  It  was  dark,  but  in  the  chamber  beyond,  on 
a  small  table,  a  candle  was  burning.  The  room 
had  been  turned  into  an  officer's  bedchamber.  The 
officer,  who  lay  heavily  asleep  on  the  narrow  iron 
bed,  was  Captain  Trenchart.  His  broad,  slouched 
hat  and  long  military  mantle  were  thrown  carelessly 
upon  a  chair. 


Catching  up  these,  Norbert  strode  across  the 
room  so  lightly  that  not  a  board  creaked,  opened 
the  door,  and  wrapping  himself  hastily  in  the  man 
tle,  and  placing  the  hat  well  over  his  forehead,  he 
crossed  the  loggia  and  entered  the  great  courtyard. 

Directing  his  steps  without  a  moment's  delay  to  the 
vaulted  entrance  at  the  side,  he  strode  imperiously 
past  the  sleepy  guard  with  a  muttered  word  under 
his  breath,  which  might  or  might  not  have  resem 
bled  the  countersign  for  the  night,  but  which  the 
guard  was  plainly  too  indifferent  and  too  accus 
tomed  to  midnight  sallies  of  the  young  Spanish 
officers  to  care  to  challenge. 

In  another  moment  Norbert  had  reached  the 
Lange  Delft,  and  now  his  knowledge  of  his  own 
native  town  stood  him  in  good  stead.  An  old,  dis 
used  canal  bed,  covered  now  by  streets,  led  from 
the  Lange  Delft  straight  to  the  city  moat.  It 
had  been  the  favorite  haunt  of  his  adventurous 
boyhood.  Diving  into  its  unused  recesses,  which 
had  apparently  been  forgotten  by  the  people  of 
Middelburg  since  he  encountered  in  them  no  sign 
of  life,  Norbert  soon  made  his  way  to  the  moat  at 
a  point  where,  below  the  city  wall,  no  guard  was 
stationed. 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation  he  plunged  into 
the  icy  waters  of  the  canal  and  swam,  unseen,  to 
the  opposite  side.  A  rapid  run  of  a  few  miles  along 
the  dikes  brought  him  safely  within  the  patriot  lines, 
which  he  reached  exhausted,  but  triumphant. 

On  the  following  day,  being  the  nineteenth  day 
of  January,  Norbert  presented  himself  before  the 
prince,  who  was  at  Zierikzee,  directing  the  opera 
tions  of  the  siege  of  Aliddelburg. 

The  prince  inquired  eagerly  as  to  the  results  of 
the  perilous  mission  which  the  young  man  had 
voluntarily  undertaken  in  order  to  learn  the  true 
strength  and  condition  of  the  Spanish  garrison. 

"  The  townspeople  and  soldiers  are  alike  fam- 


395 

ishing,  but  five-and-twenty  Spanish  ships,  under 
d'Avila,  lie  off  Flushing,  ready  to  join  the  fleet  of 
Romero  at  the  first  possible  moment.  They  will 
then  be  a  hundred  ships  strong,  and  if  they  succeed 
in  carrying  through  their  cargoes  of  provision,  Mid- 
delburg  will  be  lost.  Mondragon  is  as  brave  as  a 
lion,  and  although  his  men  are  dying  a  score  a  day, 
he  will  hold  out  while  there  is  hope  of  relief.  We 
Dutch  are  not  alone  in  our  ability  to  stand  these 
bitter  sieges." 

Such  was  the  substance  of  Norbert's  report. 

The  fleet  of  Romero,  heavily  freighted  with  pro 
visions,  still  lay  in  the  harbor  of  Bergen  op  Zoom. 

At  the  direction  of  the  prince,  the  Beggar  fleet, 
under  Admiral  Boisot,  at  once  moved  up  the  East 
Scheldt  and  took  its  position  nearly  opposite  Bergen, 
whereupon  the  prince  himself,  putting  out  from 
Zierikzee  in  his  own  galley,  assembled  the  officers 
and  men  of  his  armada  and  adjured  them  with  all 
the  fervor  and  eloquence  of  which  he  was  master 
not  to  permit  Middelburg,  the  key  to  all  Zeeland, 
and  even  now  on  the  point  of  yielding  to  the  patriot 
forces,  to  be  wrested  from  their  grasp. 

The  response  was  a  burst  of  wild  cheering.  On 
the  sea,  if  not  on  the  land,  the  Beggars  felt  them 
selves  master.  With  one  accord  officers  and  men 
declared  themselves  ready  to  shed  every  drop  of 
blood  in  their  veins  for  the  prince  and  the  Father 
land. 

Then  followed  the  fierce  naval  battle  of  Bergen, 
in  which  the  Beggars  grappled  the  Spanish  ships  to 
their  own  in  the  narrow  channel  and  fought  with 
wild  and  desperate  courage  with  battle-axes,  pikes, 
pistols,  and  daggers,  giving  no  quarter  and  asking 
none,  casting  every  prisoner  forthwith  into  the  sea, 
until  twelve  hundred  Spanish  soldiers  slain  and 
fifteen  ships  captured,  the  enemy  knew  themselves 
beaten  and  retreated  into  the  friendly  port  of  Ber 
gen. 


396 

Then  from  the  wet  and  slippery  decks  of  the 
victorious  fleet  with  wild  and  terrible  melody  rose 
the  Beggars'  song,  and  filled  sea  and  sky  with  its 
thrilling  echoes  : 

"  The  Spanish  Inquisition  has  God's  malediction, 

The  Spanish  Inquisition  of  blood-drinkers'  fame ! 

The  Spanish  Inquisition  will  find  a  meet  conviction, 

The  Spanish  Inquisition  has  played  out  its  game ! 

"  Long  live  the  Beggars  !  Christians,  ye  must  cry, 

Long  live  the  Beggars  !     Pluck  up  courage  then, 
Long  live  the  Beggars  !     If  you  would  not  die, 
Long  live  the  Beggars  !  shout  ye  Christian  men  !  " 

Back  to  Antwerp  d'Avila,  hearing  of  the  fate  of 
his  countrymen,  brought  his  fleet  with  hot  haste, 
while  Romero  coolly  confessing  that  he  was  "  a 
land-fighter  and  no  sailor,"  made  good  his  way  to 
Brussels,  both  commanders  acknowledging  that  the 
city  of  Middelburg  must  be  abandoned  to  its  fate. 

Further  struggle  was  plainly  useless  and  on  the 
eighteenth  of  February  the  prince  received  the 
articles  of  capitulation  from  Mondragon,  to  whom 
he  granted  honorable  conditions,  permitting  him 
and  his  troops  to  leave  the  place  with  their  arms, 
ammunition,  and  personal  property. 

"The  capitulation  of  the  fiery  Mondragon,  and 
the  capture  of  Middelburg,"  says  the  brilliant 
English  biographer1  of  the  prince,  "marked  the 
epoch  when  the  Spaniard  was  forced  to  recognize 
the  Hollanders  as  'belligerents,'  not  as  rebels,  and 
the  prince  as  their  lawful  stadtholder,  and  not  a 
proscribed  outlaw." 

The  citizens  of  Middelburg,  glad  to  shake  off  the 
Spanish  yoke  to  which  they  had  so  long  ignomin- 
iously  submitted,  took  the  oath  of  fidelity  to  the 
prince  as  stadtholder,  and  from  this  day  returned 
loyally  and  with  undivided  hearts  to  their  patriotic 
allegiance. 

1  Frederic  Harrison. 


397 

The  first  man  to  enter  the  now  deserted  house  in 
the  Lange  Delft  on  that  February  day  was  Norbert 
Tontorf.  Within  the  beautiful  portico  he  was  met 
by  the  new  burgomaster,  the  Syndic  Heldring,  who 
placed  the  key  of  his  father's  house  in  Norbert's 
hands. 

"It  is  the  wish  of  the  town  council,  worthy 
Mijnheer  Tontorf,"  said  the  burgomaster  with  grave 
ceremony,  "that  the  house  of  your  father,  which 
has  by  the  surrender  of  the  Spaniards  become  the 
property  of  the  city  of  Middelburg,  should  by  it  be 
presented  to  your  father's  son  in  token  of  the  good 
service  rendered  by  you  in  the  release  of  our  fair 
city  from  the  Spanish  yoke,  and  in  everlasting 
memorial  to  the  virtues  and  patriotic  services  of 
Nikolaas  Tontorf." 

Deeply  moved,  so  that  words  of  reply  failed  to 
come  at  his  bidding,  Norbert  received  the  noble 
gift. 

Then,  when  he  found  himself  left  alone  as  he 
supposed  in  his  father's  house,  a  sob  in  the  dark 
recesses  of  the  corridor  called  Norbert's  attention 
to  the  weeping  Hendrika.  She  was  lurking  in  the 
background,  awaiting  opportunity  to  implore  par 
don  for  her  innocent  betrayal  of  her  young  master 
to  Mondragon. 

"  Not  a  word,  not  a  word,  Hendrika  !  "  com 
manded  Norbert  imperiously,  concealing  his  own 
emotion;  "since  the  end  is  glorious  all  is  well. 
It  is  for  you  now  to  bring  the  dear  old  home  aspect 
back  to  this  dismal  barrack.  Stop  your  tears  and 
get  to  work." 

A  few  days  thereafter,  the  prince  having  arrived, 
and  having  in  person  restored  to  the  inhabitants  of 
Middelburg  their  ancient  charter,  or  Keitre,  and  the 
whole  city  being  wild  with  rejoicing,  another  scene 
of  a  character  not  wholly  different  was  enacted  in 
the  house  in  the  Lange  Delft. 

In  the  Gossaert-Saal,  on  his  own  beloved  hearth- 


398 

stone,  stood  Norbert  Tontorf,  not  flushed  with 
triumph,  but  bearing  himself  with  the  humility  and 
gravity  which  became  the  son  of  a  line  of  martyrs, 
led  to  martyrdom  from  that  very  spot.  Before  him 
stood  the  Prince  of  Orange,  his  liege  lord  and  be 
loved  master. 

"This  house,"  said  Norbert,  with  difficulty  com 
manding  his  voice,  for  poignant  memories  in  that 
moment  crowded  thick  and  fast  upon  him,  "  my 
father's  house,  my  lord,  and  my  grandfather's,  has, 
by  the  good  will  of  the  city  of  Middelburg,  been 
given  back  to  me.  Shall  I  have  a  home  like  this 
when  my  master  is  without  a  home  ?  Greatly 
should  I  shame  me  to  hold  as  my  own  such  a  posses 
sion.  It  is  no  prince's  palace,  but  a  plain  burgher's 
house,  but  such  as  it  is,  freely  as  it  was  given  to 
me,  I  give  it  herewith  to  you,  whose  service  is 
dearer  to  me  than  my  own  life,  praying  that  you 
will  deign  so  to  honor  my  father's  name  as  to  re 
ceive  it." 

With  tears  in  his  eyes  the  lonely  prince  clasped 
Norbert's  hands.  There  remained  to  him  that  day 
indeed,  of  all  his  vast  possessions  and  ancestral 
palaces  in  the  Netherlands,  not  so  much  as  a  single 
roof  which  he  could  claim  for  his  own  use. 

"This  house,  Tontorf,"  he  said,  "is  a  sacred 
place.  With  a  reverence  and  gratitude  for  which 
I  can  find  no  words,  I  accept  it  from  your  hands  as 
my  dwelling-place,  my  home  in  Zeeland.  Not  with 
out  compensation,  however,  shall  it  pass  to  me 
from  the  hands  of  its  devoted,  heroic  owner,  and 
not  without  the  condition  that  it  shall  remain  the 
home  also  of  the  son  of  Nikolaas  Tontorf." 


XXXV 

THE  LONELIEST  MAN  IN  EUROPE 


and  terrible  sixteenth  century  in  which 
the  human  spirit,  so  long  slumbering  and 
enslaved,  awoke  to  its  sublime  though  awful 
destiny  of  freedom  and  self-direction  ! 

Few  indeed  were  the  spirits,  noble  and  ardent, 
which,  reaching  in  its  tragic  course  to  heroic  height 
and  spiritual  greatness,  were  suffered  to  live  out 
their  appointed  time  ! 

"All  the  country  is  longing  for  you  as  for  the  Angel 
Gabriel  "  ;  so  wrote  the  prince  to  his  brother  Louis, 
"his  sword,  his  mouthpiece,  his  pride." 

Two  months  had  passed  since  the  capitulation  of 
Middelburg.  Leyden  was  closely  besieged  by  the 
Spaniards,  and  from  the  east  the  gallant  Louis,  with 
health  restored  and  his  old  unconquerable,  buoyant 
courage,  was  leading  a  small  army  to  join  the  forces 
of  the  prince  in  the  neighborhood  of  Delft,  whence 
together  they  would  march  to  the  relief  of  Leyden. 
With  Louis  at  the  head  of  the  reinforcements  were 
his  brothers  John  and  Henry,  of  Nassau,  and  Duke 
Christoph,  son  of  the  Elector  Palatine  ;  the  two 
latter  youthful  knights  of  two  and  three  and  twenty. 

Thus  the  four  Nassau  brothers  were  now  together 
in  the  field,  fighting  for  the  freedom  of  the  Nether 
lands. 

The  days  of  April  passed  and  the  prince,  from 
his  camp  on  an  island  between  the  Waal  and  the 
Meuse,  waited  and  watched  with  indescribable 
eagerness  for  the  coming  of  his  brothers. 

'  '  Let  me  know  when  you  plan  to  cross  the  river, 
he  writes,  "  so  that  I  can  meet  you." 

399 


400 

Then,  having  heard  rumors  of  an  engagement 
with  the  Spaniards,  the  following  day  : 

"  /  beg  you  to  let  me  know  who  of  yours  are  left  on 
the  field  or  wounded.  .  .  My  regards  to  the  Duke 
Christoph  and  my  brothers." 

Three  days  passed  without  tidings  and  on  April 
twenty-first  the  prince  writes  in  deepest  anxiety 
and  dread  : 

My  Brothers:  Being  in  the  greatest  trouble  in  the 
world  at  having  had  no  answer  from  you  to  the  seven 
letters  I  have  written  since  the  loth,  I  have  decided  to 
send  you  this  messenger.  .  .  Only  let  me  hear  your 
condition." 

No  answer  ever  came. 

The  river  had  been  crossed,  the  battle  had  been 
fought,  and  on  the  field  it  was  the  heroic  Louis  of 
Nassau,  his  brother  Henry,  and  the  young  Count 
Palatine  who  were  left  dead  in  the  trampled  and 
blood-red  marshes  of  Mook  Heath,  of  whose  tragedy 
the  heavens  themselves  had  given  fearful  portent. 

In  a  suspense  which  was  like  slow  death  to  him 
the  prince,  broken-hearted  at  last,  struggled  on. 
For  a  time  both  the  households  of  the  elector  at 
Heidelberg  and  of  the  Nassaus  at  Dillenburg  re 
fused  to  believe  that  their  young  heroes  were  slain, 
since  their  bodies  were  never  found. 

Two  months  after  the  battle  of  Mook  Heath,  a 
piteous  wail  comes  from  the  aged  Countess  Juliana 
of  Nassau,  that  she  can  still  learn  nothing  of  their 
fate.  Two  only  of  her  noble  band  of  sons,  William 
and  John,  were  left  her  now. 

At  Heidelberg  the  summer,  heavy  with  suspense, 
wore  slowly  away. 

On  an  August  morning  Charlotte  de  Bourbon, 
with  the  Electress  Amalie  leaning  on  her  arm,  was 
walking  on  the  great  terrace  of  the  castle  before  the 
ancient  chapel  of  Saint  Udalrich.  From  the  Glock- 
enthurm,  looming  to  the  east  of  the  terrace  through- 


the  silvery  morning  mist,  could  be  heard  the  sound 
of  the  great  castle  bell,  slow  tolling.  At  the  feet  of 
the  Jettenbuhl,  the  crag  which  descends  sheer  from 
the  terrace  wall,  the  quaint,  gabled  roofs  of  the  old 
town  rose  through  thick  masses  of  greenery,  but 
the  lovely  Neckar  valley  and  the  mountains  of  the 
Odenwald  were  hid  from  view  in  a  misty  curtain. 

The  face  of  the  electress  was  careworn  and  anx 
ious  while  that  of  Mademoiselle  also  bore  the  stamp 
of  the  sorrows  which  the  last  two  years  had  brought 
her  in  the  death  of  Jeanne  d'Albret  and  the  mani 
fold  murders  of  St.  Bartholomew.  As  the  Princess 
Amalie  listened  to  the  mournful  funeral  bell  quiet 
tears  were  falling  unheeded  down  her  cheeks.  "  My 
lord  has  given  the  word  at  last,"  she  murmured. 
"  Even  he  has  abandoned  hope.  Our  gallant  Chris- 
toph  will  never  come  back  to  us." 

Charlotte  could  not  command  her  voice  for  a  lit 
tle  space,  but  in  a  moment  she  said  softly  : 

"  Ah,  dearest  friend,  never  have  I  seen  a  grief 
more  nobly  borne  than  that  of  the  elector." 

"Yes,  Charlotte,"  returned  madame,  "though 
he  has  aged  full  fast  under  it.  He  has  gone  alone 
now  into  the  chapel  to  pray  for  submission  to  the 
good  will  of  God." 

Bending  her  head  Amalie's  lips  moved  in  silent 
prayer.  As  the  two  stood  with  bowed  heads  and 
folded  hands,  the  Elector  Friedrichand  his  daughter 
Kunigunde  joined  them,  coming  from  the  chapel. 

The  bell  ceased  tolling  and  with  trembling  lips 
the  young  girl  murmured  : 

"  Christoph  loved  the  prospect  from  this  terrace 
more  than  all  else  in  Heidelberg,  father.  How 
often  I  have  seen  him  leaning  on  this  wall  at  even 
tide "  and  her  voice  choked  with  sobs. 

"Be  of  good  courage,  children,"  said  the  deep, 
steady  voice  of  the  white-haired  elector ;  "the  lad 
is  dead,  but  he  died  on  the  bed  of  honor.  I  shall 
go  to  him,  but  he  will  not  return  to  me.  Glad  am  I 

2A 


402 

that  he  fell  In  the  cause  of  God  !  Let  us  not  think 
of  him  alone,  or  solely  of  our  own  sorrow.  Think 
too,  of  his  noble  companions,  of  Count  Louis,  in 
whom  our  prince  has  lost  his  very  right  hand,  and 
of  the  boy  Heinrich,  his  grand  old  mother's  pride 
and  darling,  so  young,  so  pure  in  life  and  heart." 

A  strange,  unearthly  calmness  was  in  the  quiet 
words,  a  calmness  new  won  in  solitary  prayer,  the 
calmness  of  him  who  "  best  can  drink  his  cup  of 
woe,  triumphant  over  pain." 

"  In  truth,"  said  Amalie,  "  I  fear  me  the  mourn 
ing  in  Dillenburg  is  yet  sorer  than  here  to-day.  The 
Countess  Juliana  has  had  sorrow  upon  sorrow." 

"Let  us  go  to  my  cabinet,  dear  wife,"  said  the 
elector,  taking  her  hand,  his  brave  eyes  dim  ;  "  let 
us  together  write  a  letter  to  the  countess  that  we 
may  share  our  mutual  sorrow,  and  the  comfort  of 
our  God." 

Together  the  princely  pair  with  slow  steps  en 
tered  the  castle  and  Charlotte  was  left  to  soothe 
the  sobbing  girl,  Kunigunde,  as  her  loving  nature 
gave  her  a  rare  power  to  do. 

Then  Jeanne  de  Mousson  appearing  upon  the 
terrace  a  letter  in  her 'hand,  her  face  seeming  to 
speak  of  new  trouble,  Kunigunde  hastened  away 
to  hide  her  tear-stained  face. 

"What  is  it,  Jeanne  ?"  asked  Charlotte  anx 
iously.  "  From  whom  is  your  letter  ?  " 

"  From  Captain  Tontorf." 

"  The  captain  is  a  faithful  correspondent,  Jeanne," 
returned  Charlotte,  to  whom  Jeanne's  great  secret 
still  remained  untold.  "  What  news  does  he  give  ? 
How  is  the  prince  bearing  this  latest  blow  ?  " 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  fear  me  that  even  his  endur 
ance  has  failed.  Captain  Tontorf  says  he  has 
borne  himself  for  the  past  month  like  a  man  be 
numbed  by  despair,  in  a  silent,  grim  agony  which 
has  been  terrible  to  see.  'None  the  less,'  "  and 
she  lifted  the  letter  and  read,  "'my  lord  has 


403 

worked  on,  never  stopping  to  rest,  hardly  daring 
methinks  to  pause  lest  he  could  never  begin  again. 
Day  and  night  he  has  fought  for  the  relief  of  Ley- 
den.  We  are  in  camp  between  Rotterdam  and 
Delft.  I  write  in  my  tent.  A  little  more  than  two 
weeks  ago  his  highness  went  with  Paul  Buys  to 
Capelle  and  directed  the  piercing  of  the  great  outer 
dyke  in  sixteen  places,  for  he  is  determined  to 
drive  out  the  Spaniards  around  Leyden  by  letting 
in  the  sea.  The  good  people  who  will  lose  all  say, 
"Better  a  drowned  land  than  a  lost  land,"  and  so 
the  deed  is  done.  God  give  it  success,  for  it  is 
the  last  hope  for  Leyden.! 

"  '  But  success  will  mean  little  to  Holland  if  it 
must  lose  its  leader,'  "  Jeanne  read  on  ;  "  '  even  the 
prince  is  human,  and  grief,  anxiety,  and  exposure 
in  the  flooded  fields  have  done  their  work.  A 
violent  fever  has  attacked  him  and  he  lies  for  the 
most  part  unconscious,  wakening  only  to  dispatch 
a  messenger  to  bid  them  of  Leyden  hold  out  yet  a 
little  longer,  and  then  sinking  again  into  stupor. 
It  has  gone  abroad  in  the  camp  that  his  is  no  simple 
intermittent  fever,  as  was  at  first  supposed,  but  the 
pest  itself,  and  hardly  can  Brunynck  and  I  find 
them  who  will  come  near  his  tent  for  terror  of  their 
poor  lives.' " 

Charlotte  had  changed  color,  and  her  look  be 
trayed  deep  agitation  as  she  held  out  her  hand  and 
murmured  : 

"  Let  me  see  the  letter." 

Silently  Jeanne  handed  it  to  her,  but  a  singular 
confusion  and  trepidation  were  visible  in  her  face  as 
she  watched  that  of  her  lady. 

In  another  moment,  with  a  swift  movement  of 
amazement  Charlotte  looked  up,  and  pointing  to 
the  head  of  the  letter  cried  under  her  breath  : 

"  Jeanne,  what  does  this  mean  ?  Tell  me  in 
stantly  !  This  letter  from  Captain  Tontorf  to  you, 
Jeanne  de  Mousson,  begins,  '  My  wife  ' !  " 


404 

"And  if  it  is  true,  dearest  lady,"  said  Jeanne, 
facing  Charlotte  with  firm,  fearless  look,  "  it  is  for 
your  own  dear  sake  that  I  became  the  wife  of  Cap 
tain  Tontorf,  and  for  your  dear  sake  that  I  have 
withheld  from  you  the  knowledge  of  it,  lest  you 
should  send  me  from  your  side  while  yet  you 
needed  your  poor  Jeanne !  Even  so  you  sent 
Jeannette  Vassetz  back  to  France  when  she  con 
fessed  that  the  Sieur  George  d'Averly  had  won  her 
heart.  Do  you  think  I  would  have  my  dearest 
lady  left  alone  ?" 

With  which  Jeanne,  womanlike,  burst  into  a  fit 
of  hearty  and  honest  crying. 

Then  the  whole  story,  short,  brave,  and  simple  as 
it  was,  was  told,  and  Charlotte  de  Bourbon  knew 
as  she  had  never  known  before  what  the  love  of 
the  Gascon  maiden  for  her  signified  in  its  self-sac 
rificing  strength. 

"  Your  promise  to  Captain  Tontorf,"  said  Made 
moiselle,  as  they  sat  awhile  later  confronting  each 
other  with  flushed  cheeks  and  tear-dimmed  eyes  in 
her  boudoir  whither  they  had  betaken  themselves, 
"  your  promise,  Jeanne,  bound  your  husband  not 
to  claim  you  until  Charlotte  de  Bourbon  bade  him 
so  to  do  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  lady,"  and  Jeanne  bent  her  head,  her 
dark  eyes  downcast. 

"Do  you  love  your  husband,  Jeanne  ?"  The 
question  was  asked  in  the  softest  of  whispers,  and 
the  lips  that  spoke  trembled. 

Jeanne  lifted  her  eyes  then  and  looking  straight 
into  her  lady's  face  threw  herself  upon  her  breast, 
her  face  hidden  there. 

"  Oh,  I  do  love  him,  my  lady,"  she  sobbed  out, 
"  I  cannot,  cannot  help  it !  I  have  loved  him  since 
the  first  day  that  ever  I  saw  him  there  on  our  river 
at  home.  Forgive  me  that  I  do  !  I  will  never  leave 
you  to  go  to  him,  unless  you  bid  me,  and  he  knows 
I  never  will.  He  is  too  brave  and  true  to  ask  me." 


405 

"  But  what  if  I  should  bid  you  go  to  him  now, 
this  very  day  ?  Would  you  be  glad  or  sorry  ?  or 
would  you  be  afraid  of  a  camp  of  soldiers  and  a 
sick  man  from  whom  his  craven  servants  flee  ?  " 
and  Charlotte's  gentle  lips  curled  with  irrepressible 
scorn. 

"  Would  I  be  afraid  ?  " 

The  Bearnaise  had  sprung  to  her  feet,  her  eyes 
flashing  through  their  tears. 

"  Try  me  and  see  !  "  she  cried.  "  Bid  me  go 
and  I  will  show  the  men  who  dare  to  weigh  their 
lives  in  the  balance  against  the  life  of  the  saviour 
of  the  Netherlands,  that  a  woman  dares  more  than 
they  !  Together  my  Tontorf  and  I  will  minister  to 
the  needs  of  his  highness,  and  if  a  woman's  wit  and 
a  woman's  nursing  can  win  him  back  to  life,  he 
shall  live  !  " 

"  Then  go,  Jeanne,"  said  her  lady  quietly.  "  Do 
not  let  us  waste  an  hour  in  needless  parley.  Take 
with  you  the  aunt  of  Jacqueline,  Vrouw  Van  Marie, 
for  a  companion,  and  I  will  beg  the  elector  to  furnish 
you  with  a  goodly  escort.  By  the  grace  of  God  you 
are  a  married  woman,  and  a  married  woman  can 
go  anywhere.  But  for  good  speed's  sake  and 
greater  safety,  Jeanne,  keep  your  veil  drawn,  and 
hide  those  eyes  of  yours  as  much  as  you  may." 

"  I  might  wear  the  costume  in  which  I  took  my 
wedding  journey,"  replied  Jeanne  demurely,  "  I 
think  that  would  make  me  perfectly  safe." 

"And  Jeanne,"  added  her  lady,  a  soft  color  ris 
ing  in  her  cheeks,  "  will  you  tell  the  prince,  when 
he  is  better,  that  he  is  not  alone,  not  wholly  bereft 
and  forsaken — that  he  has  friends  in  Heidelberg 
who  pray  for  him,  who  never,  never  forget  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  lady,  I  will  tell  him." 


XXXVI 

THE   PRINCE  CONVERSES  WITH  HIS  CAPTAIN'S 
BRIDE 

"  T  1[  THERE  is  that  glorious  Gascon  girl,  with  the 
Y  Y      eyes  ?  "  asked  the  prince  dreamily. 
Weeks  had  passed. 

They  had  brought  him  in  his  extremity  of  weak 
ness  to  Delft,  believing  that  the  air  and  the  better 
comforts  possible  there  would  hasten  his  recovery. 
He  lay  now  in  a  cool,  shaded  chamber  in  the  old 
convent  of  Saint  Agatha,  always  his  abode  when 
in  Delft,  and  beside  him  sat  Norbert  Tontorf. 

The  prince  was  emaciated  to  a  degree  from  the 
fever  and  from  their  hollow  sockets  the  large  brown 
eyes,  dull  and  lusterless  now,  looked  out  with  the 
peculiar  pathetic  appeal  of  extreme  exhaustion. 

"She  is  coming  even  now,  your  highness,"  said 
Norbert  gently. 

A  door  was  opened  at  the  far  end  of  the  room 
and  with  noiseless  steps  Jeanne  de  Mousson  entered 
bearing  a  tray  on  which  was  a  bowl  of  broth  for 
the  sick  man.  She  wore  a  simple  gown  of  a  deep 
blue  color  with  dainty  ruffles  of  white  needlework 
around  the  open  throat  and  at  the  wrists  ;  a  trim 
black  satin  bodice  set  off  the  pliant  grace  of  her 
shape,  and  her  brown  hair  was  rolled  in  burnished 
waves  from  her  low  forehead.  Norbert  watched 
her  with  a  sudden  exultation  that  her  bright,  girlish 
beauty  was  released  at  last  from  the  hard,  conven 
tual  disguise  and  concealment. 

As  she  stood  by  the  side  of  the  prince's  couch, 
Jeanne's  rich  and  brilliant  bloom  was  fairly  star 
tling  in  contrast  with  the  deathlike  pallor  of  his  face. 
406 


407 

Lifting  his  eyes  weakly  the  prince  smiled  at  the 
sight  of  so  much  loveliness,  and  took  the  nourish 
ment  she  carefully  administered  without  a  word. 

Then  as  Jeanne  turned  to  leave  the  bedside  the 
prince  caught  her  hand  in  his  feeble  grasp  and  mur 
mured  : 

"Who  are  you,  my  child?  and  how  came  you 
here?" 

Hitherto  he  had  been  too  weak  and  his  thoughts 
too  confused  by  his  malady  to  care  to  ask  a  ques 
tion  save  for  the  city  of  Leyden, — the  one  never- 
changing  anxiety  which  even  the  shadow  of  death 
could  not  abate. 

At  the  question  Jeanne's  cheeks  grew  yet  rosier 
and  she  glanced  shyly  at  Norbert,  who  at  once  ap 
proaching  the  side  of  the  prince  and  taking  her 
hand  in  his,  said  quietly  : 

"  She  is  my  wife,  if  it  please  your  highness,  for 
merly  the  demoiselle  de  Mousson,  who  came  from 
the  Abbey  of  Jouarre  with  the  Princess  de  Bour 
bon.  We  were  married  more  than  two  years  since, 
but  the  lady's  duty  to  the  princess  has  kept  us 
hitherto  apart." 

A  spark  of  light  kindled  in  the  hollow  eyes  of 
the  prince  and  the  sorrowful  lines  about  the  mouth 
relaxed. 

"By  my  faith,  Tontorf,"  he  murmured  with  a 
touch  of  his  natural  animation,  "  it  is  something 
late  to  say,  if  it  please  me  !  I  had  thought  I  had 
given  you  work  enough  to  have  kept  you  out  of 
mischief." 

"  We  took  brief  time  for  our  wooing  and  wedding, 
my  lord,"  said  Norbert  laughing,  "  and  until  the 
lady  appeared  in  camp  the  other  night,  and  my 
orderly  brought  me  word  that  my  wife  asked  speech 
of  me,  I  was  like  to  forget  that  I  was  fortunate 
enough  to  have  a  wife.  It  was  the  first  time  that  I 
had  so  much  as  given  her  a  kiss,  but  she  had  to 
take  it  then,  I  assure  you,  my  lord,  for  the  sight 


408 

of  her  was  the  first  ray  of  promise  or  hope  we  had 
had  for  weeks.  God  bless  Mademoiselle  de  Bour 
bon  for  sending  her !  " 

"  Amen.  But  I  fear  the  captain  does  not  deserve 
such  a  wife,"  added  the  prince,  who  was  smiling 
for  the  first  time  in  months,  "  since  he  was  in  dan 
ger  of  forgetting  that  he  had  one.  What  say  you, 
Madame  Tontorf  ?  " 

"I  could  not  forgive  him,  monseigneur,"  replied 
Jeanne,  with  her  charming  Bearnaise  accent,  "  had 
he  put  me  from  his  mind  for  any  save  your  high 
ness.  I  knew  ever  that  I  must  take  second  place  in 
his  heart  since  the  first  must  always  be  yours." 

The  prince  fixed  his  eyes  full  upon  the  two  elo 
quent  young  faces,  with  a  smile  tender  and  benign. 
He  essayed  to  speak  but  his  voice  faltered. 

Jeanne  seeing  that  he  was  weary  made  haste  to 
leave  the  room. 

The  following  day  she  sat  alone  with  the  prince, 
Norbert  being  sent  to  carry  dispatches  to  Admiral 
Boisot.  For  the  water  had  risen  around  Leyden, 
and  a  fleet  of  two  hundred  ships,  manned  by  the 
Beggars  of  the  Sea,  and  provisioned  for  the  starv 
ing  Leydeners  stood  now  but  five  miles  from  the 
city,  just  off  the  great  Land-scheiding,  within  which 
the  Spaniards,  still  safe  from  the  flood,  lay  in  their 
trenches.  The  prince's  order  to  Boisot  was  to 
carry  the  Land-scheiding  immediately  at  all  costs. 
In  spite  of  the  prostration  of  his  fever,  every 
detail  of  the  situation  was  firmly  grasped  by  him 
and  ceaselessly  pondered. 

But  now  as  he  sat  propped  in  a  chair  beside  an 
open  window  through  which  the  September  air 
flowed  in  a  warm  and  vitalizing  flood,  the  heavy 
burden  of  his  State  cares  and  even  of  Leyden's 
peril,  seemed  to  slip  for  the  moment  from  the  mind 
of  the  prince. 

"Madame,"  he  said,  looking  into  Jeanne's  face 
as  she  sat  repairing  his  neglected  garments  by  a 


409 

small  table,  "your  husband,  who  goes  yet  unpun 
ished,  by  the  way,  for  the  trick  he  has  served  us, 
said  something,  methought,  as  to  your  coming 
hither  at  the  bidding  of  Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon." 

"Yes,  monseigneur,"  Jeanne  responded  quickly. 
"  At  the  moment  in  which  she  learned  of  the  illness 
of  your  highness,  Mademoiselle  learned  also  for  the 
first  time  that  her  devoted  servant,  Jeanne  de 
Mousson,  had  become  the  wife  of  Captain  Tontorf. 
My  lady  is  swift  to  act  when  she  sees  need,  and 
she  sent  me  on  my  way  to  Holland  even  that  same 
day." 

"And  you  would  not  have  joined  your  husband 
save  at  her  bidding  ?  " 

"  Nay,  monseigneur.  Captain  Tontorf  had  made 
me  a  solemn  pledge  never  to  claim  me  until  Made 
moiselle  of  her  own  free  will  should  bid  him." 

"Such  devotion  is  rare,  madame." 

"  Such  a  mistress  is  rarer,  your  highness." 

The  prince  was  silent,  but  the  deep  lines  of 
wasting  sorrow  and  suffering  seemed  to  fade  per 
ceptibly  from  his  face  as  a  new,  unuttered  hope 
stirred  to  life,  new,  and  yet  not  all  unknown. 

Louis,  his  idolized  brother,  was  beyond  the  reach 
henceforth  of  earthly  hopes  or  fears. 

"  I  once  met  Mademoiselle  at  Heidelberg,"  he 
said  slowly;  "it  is  more  than  two  years  since, 
shortly  before  Bartholomew." 

"Yes,  monseigneur.  Mademoiselle  has  not  for 
gotten.  She  bade  me  say  to  your  highness  that 
you  must  not  feel  yourself  even  yet  wholly  bereft ; 
that  your  friends  in  Heidelberg  can  never  forget 
you,  and  never  cease  to  pray  for  your  peace." 

"  Said  the  lady  so  ?  "  replied  the  prince  quickly. 
"A  gracious  and  consoling  word."  And  he  fell 
into  deep  reverie. 

Later  in  the  day,  when  he  had  slept  and  showed 
a  noticeable  increase  of  strength  and  spirit,  the 
prince  said  to  Jeanne  : 


4io 

"  If  Leyden  is  saved,  dear  lady,  we  shall  be 
forced  to  send  you  and  that  husband  of  yours  off 
on  a  honeymoon  to  celebrate  the  event." 

"  Oh,  charming  !  "  cried  Jeanne. 

"You  have  heard  of  a  town  named  Middelburg, 
in  our  province  of  Zeeland  ?  " 

"That  have  1,  monseigneur !  Captain  Tontorf 
talked  to  me  of  nothing  else  on  our  long  ride  from 
Jouarre.  I  feel  almost  as  if  I  had  heard  the  bells 
of  the  minster  and  seen  the  house  in  the  Lange 
Delft,  where  his  boyhood  was  spent." 

"I  am  minded,"  said  the  prince,  smiling  at  her 
eager  face,  "to  condemn  the  pair  of  you  to  solitary 
confinement  for  a  month  or  two  presently  in  that 
same  house  in  Middelburg." 

Jeanne  laughed  with  joyous,  unconstrained  de 
light. 

"  I  am  supposed  at  present  to  be  owner  of  that 
same  mansion,"  continued  the  prince.  "The 
Spanish  occupation  has  left  it  dilapidated,  stripped, 
and  forlorn.  I  should  like  to  see  what  you  two 
could  do  with  it.  Tontorf  knew  it  in  its  original 
order,  and  you  have  your  woman's  gift  of  restoring 
waste  places  and  making  a  home  out  of  a  desert, 
as  you  have  shown  here.  Would  you  care  to  un 
dertake  the  task  ?  " 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  Jeanne,  with  shining 
eyes. 

"It  would  be  my  wish,"  said  the  prince,  "that 
the  house  should  be,  in  so  far  as  it  is  possible,  re 
stored  to  its  former  condition.  I  wish  to  place  it 
under  charge  and  disposal  of  yourself  and  of  your 
husband.  It  will  also  be  my  home  when  I  am  in 
Zeeland  henceforth,  and  I  ask  nothing  better  for 
myself  than  the  simple  dignity  and  substantial 
comfort  of  an  old  Dutch  burgher  mansion,"  with 
which  the  prince  fell  silent  again,  while  in  the  busy 
brain  of  the  young  wife  by  his  side  a  host  of  happy 
thoughts  were  stirring. 


4*1 

Full  soon  the  promise  thus  made  was  fulfilled, 
and  Captain  Tontorf  took  his  bride  to  the  house 
once  his  father's  for  the  promised  honeymoon.  For 
October  brought  deliverance  to  Leyden,  and  all 
Holland  thrilled  with  the  tidings  that  this,  the  most 
famous  of  the  great  historic  sieges,  had  ended  with 
the  Spaniards  in  full  retreat  before  the  incoming 
flood.  The  Dutchmen,  and  the  Dutchmen's  awful 
ally,  the  sea,  had  come  off  at  last  victorious. 

The  prince,  in  spite  of  his  weakness,  hastened  to 
the  long-suffering  city,  for  whose  deliverance  he 
had  fought  his  way  back  to  life,  and  amid  a  very 
tumult  of  thanksgiving  he  granted  its  citizens  the 
gift  they  craved  in  token  of  their  heroic  resistance, 
the  charter  of  a  university. 


XXXVII 
AT  THE  KIRMESS 

"  A  H,  buy  a  basket,  my  lady  !     Take  but  a  look 

J-\  at  this  one  !  See  the  bright  border !  Mais 
c'est  elegant,  n'est-ce  pas?  All  woven  by 
these  hands,  your  highness.  See  how  strong  it  is, 
and  yet  light  enough  even  for  your  ladyship's  deli 
cate  hand." 

Thus  pleading,  a  Romany  woman,  with  flashing, 
black  eyes  and  blue-black  hair  smoothed  under  a 
scarlet  kerchief  tied  below  her  chin,  held  out  a 
sample  of  her  wares  to  a  young  lady  who  at  the 
moment  had  entered  the  motley  labyrinth  of  the 
open  New  Year's  Kirmess  in  the  market-place  of 
Heidelberg. 

It  was  Charlotte  de  Bourbon. 

She  wore  a  pelisse  of  puce-colored  velvet,  thickly 
sprinkled  now  with  snowflakes,  and  from  the  furred 
hood  light  locks  of  her  golden  hair  had  been  blown 
by  the  gusty  wind,  for  it  was  snowing  and  blowing 
furiously.  With  gay  and  breathless  laughter  Made 
moiselle  and  her  two  companions,  the  Lady  Kuni- 
gunde  and  Jacqueline  Tontorf,  had  sprung  within 
the  gypsy's  booth  for  shelter  from  the  storm. 
They  had  been  enjoying  their  lusty  fight  with  it, 
for  all  three  were  full  of  high  spirits  and  the  fine 
elastic  vigor  of  youth  and  health. 

But  as  she  looked  at  the  Romany  woman,  Char 
lotte  de  Bourbon,  startled,  exclaimed: 

"  f^oila,  Kunigunde,  can  you  believe  it?  This  is 
an  old  friend  of  mine ;  see  if  she  will  know  me." 

She  spoke  in  French ;  her  voice  was  exquisitely 
modulated ;  her  blue  eyes,  in  their  sunny  clearness, 
412 


413 

showed  a  child's  eager  pleasure  in  the  sudden  rec 
ognition. 

"You  and  I  have  met  before,  good  friend,"  she 
now  said,  looking  with  a  frank  smile  upon  the  vivid, 
sunbrowned  face  of  the  Romany  woman.  "Do 
you  remember  the  Abbey  of  Jouarre?  Do  you 
remember  a  little  billet  which  you  came  there  one 
summer  day,  three  years  ago,  to  deliver?  " 

"  It  is  the  lady  abbess  herself !  God  love  your 
lovely  face  and  forgive  me  that  I  forgot  it !  "  and 
down  on  her  knee  fell  the  woman,  pressing  her  lips 
to  the  snowy  fur  border  of  Charlotte's  cloak. 

"And  your  ladyship  got  safe  away  from  those 
terrible  stone  walls  !  And  you  have  found  a  good 
home  here  in  Almayne,  n'est-ce  pas  ?  And  the  gal 
lant  knight  who  sent  the  billet  by  me  to  your  lady 
ship, — he  with  the  yellow  hair,  the  laugh  in  his 
voice,  the  free  heart, — is  he  too  well  and  happy?  " 

Charlotte's  face  changed  swiftly. 

"  The  Count  of  Nassau  died  on  the  field  within 
the  year,"  she  said  softly. 

" Misericorde !  Never  did  I  see  so  fine  a  gentle 
man  as  that.  May  the  saints  receive  him  !  And 
will  your  ladyship  tell  me,  then,  what  has  become 
of  the  dark-eyed  demoiselle  who  was  with  you  at 
Jouarre,  at  Fontenay — the  Bearnaise?  She  is  not 
with  your  ladyship  to-day?  "  And  the  black  eyes 
glanced  keen  inquiry  at  the  faces  of  Kunigunde  and 
Jacqueline. 

"Ah,  the  demoiselle  de  Mousson.  She  is  married 
to  the  man  of  her  choice  and  flown  far  from  me  into 
the  Low  Countries,"  replied  Charlotte,  shaking  her 
head  with  a  wistful  smile. 

"  And  in  a  few  short  months,"  said  the  woman, 
with  the  incredible  swiftness  of  intuition  of  her 
craft,  "  Mademoiselle  will  be  married  to  the  man  of 
her  choice  and  will  be  flown  after  her !  Ah,  let  me 
tell  your  ladyshio's  fortune!"  she  exclaimed  im 
portunately. 


414 

Wave  after  wave  of  brightest  bloom  tinged  Char 
lotte's  cheeks  at  these  unexpected  words. 

"No,  no,"  she  murmured,  with  a  gesture  com 
manding  silence,"  you  have  said  too  much  already." 
Pouring  a  handful  of  small  coins  into  the  woman's 
apron,  she  turned  from  the  booth  only  to  meet,  to 
her  increased  confusion,  the  fixed,  respectful  regard 
of  a  pair  of  eyes  which,  unknown  to  her,  had  been 
riveted  upon  her  face  for  several  minutes. 

Against  the  corner  post  of  the  adjoining  booth  a 
cavalier,  of  foreign  and  distinguished  aspect,  stood 
quietly  leaning,  a  noticeable  man  of  marked  dignity 
of  bearing. 

Why  was  this  unknown  personage  so  steadfastly 
watching  her?  Had  he  heard  that  strange,  wild 
prophecy  of  the  Romany  woman?  Had  he  observed 
her  excitement?  Where  was  Kunigunde?  What 
had  become  of  Jacqueline?  They  had  been  carried 
out  of  sight  for  the  moment  by  some  current  of  the 
crowd.  She  was  alone.  She  would  move  on  as 
rapidly  as  might  be  and  escape  that  steady,  disqui 
eting  gaze.  Ah,  no  ;  to  escape  was  impossible  ! 
She  had  passed  the  spot  where  the  stranger  stood, 
but  with  rapid  step  he  was  at  her  side.  Saluting 
her  now  with  profound  reverence,  he  said  in  a  low 
voice  and  with  a  slightly  foreign  accent : 

"  Have  I  the  honor  to  speak  to  her  grace  the 
Princess  de  Bourbon?  Hardly,  methinks,  can  I  be 
mistaken." 

The  lady,  greatly  amazed,  bent  her  head  in  token 
of  assent. 

A  letter,  sealed  with  a  large  crest,  was  in  the 
stranger's  hand.  Placing  it  in  her  own,  with  an 
other  low  bow,  he  continued  in  the  same  under 
tone  : 

"I  have  just  arrived  in  Heidelberg,  your  grace, 
sent  from  the  Prince  of  Orange  on  a  two-fold  com 
mission — a  public  commission  to  his  excellency,  the 
elector,  a  private  mission  to  Mademoiselle  de  Bour- 


415 

bon.  This  letter  I  am  charged  by  my  lord  and 
prince  to  place  in  the  hands  of  your  ladyship  at  the 
first  opportunity  1  have  of  speaking  to  you  alone. 
I  have  been  in  Heidelberg  but  two  hours  and  count 
myself  fortunate  that  my  errand  is  already  half 
fulfilled." 

With  a  parting  salutation,  courtly  and  deferential, 
the  stranger  passed  on,  mingling  with  the  moving 
crowd  and  immediately  disappearing  from  view. 

Hardly  had  Charlotte  slipped  the  letter  into  the 
folds  of  her  dress  when  Kunigunde's  voice  was 
heard  just  behind  her,  saying  : 

"  Oh,  here  you  are  !  We  lost  you  or  you  lost 
us,  it  may  chance  of  intention.  Who,  pray,  is  yon 
handsome  cavalier  who  was  plainly  unable  this 
long  time  to  take  his  eyes  from  your  face  ?  "  and 
with  arch  raillery  Kunigunde  drew  Charlotte,  who 
protested  that  she  did  not  know  the  gentleman,  on 
into  the  bewildering  intricacies  of  the  Kirmess. 

But  Mademoiselle  had  no  interest  left  in  the  noisy 
holiday  scene,  and  could  feign  little.  The  letter 
which  lay  against  her  heart  seemed  to  set  it  throb 
bing  with  wild  pulsations.  She  was  perturbed, 
confused,  excited  ;  but  most  of  all  a  strange  exult 
ant  joy  seemed  buoying  her  up,  insomuch  that  she 
scarce  knew  that  her  feet  touched  the  ground,  and 
ever  there  rang  in  her  ears  the  words  of  the 
stranger,  "  My  lord  -and  prince  !  My  lord  and 
prince  !  "  Within  an  hour,  being  weary  of  the 
crowded  Kirmess,  the  three  maidens  returned  to 
the  Gasthaus  %iim  fitter,  where  they  had  left  their 
horses. 

The  landlord,  a  privileged  personage  with  the 
family  from  the  castle,  came  bustling  to  meet  them 
as  they  reached  the  door  with  a  low  obeisance  and 
a  broad  smile  on  his  face. 

"  The  horses  shall  be  ready  in  exactly  three 
minutes,  mesdames !  The  gracious  ladies  have 
probably  not  heard  of  the  distinguished  arrival  at 


416 

my  hostelry  since  they  stopped  on  their  way  to  the 
Kirmess  ?  No  ?  I  thought  as  much  !  Ah,  it  is  a 
very  great  lord,  indeed,  and  not  only  so  but  a  great 
poet.  The  gracious  lad  PS  must  have  heard  the 
noted  '  Wilhelmuslied  ' : 

IVilhelmus  -can  Nassouwe 
ben  ick  van  duitschen  bloet." 

and  the  landlord  hummed  the  first  staves  of  the 
famous  song  under  his  breath  with  an  air  of  tri 
umphant  consequence. 

"St.  Aldegonde  !  "  cried  both  princesses  in  one 
breath. 

"  The  same  !  It  is  Philip  Marnix,  my  lord  of  St. 
Aldegonde,  come  straight  from  Holland  on  an  errand 
to  his  excellency  your  honored  father,  gracious 
Fraulein,  from  the  great  stadtholder,  William  of 
Orange." 

"  Oh,  but  really  !  "  cried  Kunigunde  with  fresh 
interest.  "  I  have  long  desired  to  see  him  !  And 
do  you  know,  sir,  the  nature  of  his  errand  ?  "  and 
she  cast  a  roguish  look  aside  at  Charlotte's  blush 
ing  face.  "  The  self-same  cavalier,  liebchen,  who 
spoke  to  you  just  now,"  she  murmured  under  her 
breath. 

"  Oh,  yes,  gracious  Fraulein,"  the  host  went  on 
in  a  declamatory  tone.  "  It  is  an  embassage  of 
weighty  and  most  honorable  character.  His  lord 
ship  is  empowered  to  negotiate  with  his  excellency 
for  a  removal,  for  a  time  at  least,  of  some  of  the 
brightest  ornaments,  some  of  the  most  eminent  sa 
vants  of  Heidelberg's  glorious  university,  to  the  new 
foundation  at  Leyden." 

"  Is  it  so  ?  "  responded  the  lady.  "  Doubtless 
then  we  shall  see  the  gentleman  presently  up  at 
the  castle.  But  my  father  is  even  now  down  in 
the  town  at  the  "university  hall,  if  you  had  but 
known  it." 

"  Trust  me  for  knowing  that,  gracious  Fraulein  I 


417 

Oh,  yes  I  gave  my  lord  of  St.  Aldegonde  many  a 
point  he  could  not  have  otherwise  obtained.  I  di 
rected  him  where  to  find  his  excellency  and  they 
are  doubtless  now  conferring  together." 

The  three  maidens,  by  this  time  mounted,  gal 
loped  up  the  snowy,  trodden  bridle  path  through  the 
naked  chestnut  wood  to  the  castle,  followed  by 
their  grooms.  Hastily  dismissing  her  attendants 
Charlotte  withdrew  to  her  room  in  the  Frauenzim- 
merbau  and  at  last  had  opportunity  to  take  her 
mysterious  letter  from  its  safe  hiding-place  and  to 
break  the  lions  of  its  seal. 

The  signature  was  William  of  Nassau,  the  im 
port  of  the  letter,  as  a  glance  sufficed  to  reveal  to 
the  lady,  was  an  offer  of  marriage  in  due  form. 

Charlotte's  eyes  flew  across  the  lines.  It  was 
a  letter  which  well  might  quicken  the  beating  of 
her  heart,  noble,  stately,  yet  loverlike. 

With  fine  restraint,  but  scarce  veiled  passion,  the 
prince  declared  his  devotion  and  begged  to  learn  if 
it  could  be  returned.  "  The  Sieur  de  St.  Alde 
gonde  will  tell  you,"  he  proceeded,  "  that  I  am  at 
the  ebb  of  all  my  worldly  fortunes  and  no  brilliant 
parti  for  a  princess  of  the  blood  of  France  ;  that  I 
am  no  longer  young  ;  that  I  am  deep  in  debt,  and 
deeper  yet  in  the  difficulties  of  this  stormy  time  ; 
that  I  can  promise  you  no  easy  and  joyous  life,  but 
rather  invite  you  to  share  the  fortunes  of  a  man 
fighting  almost  alone  in  a  war  whose  issue  is  un 
certain.  ,Yes,  unhappily  more  than  this  is  true  ;  I 
have  no  palace  such  as  would  befit  you  ;  I  can  sur 
round  you  with  no  state  and  splendor  such  as  you 
deserve ;  a  dower-house  in  Middelburg,  a  plain 
burgher  dwelling,  and  nothing  to  boast  of,  is  all 
that  I  can  at  present  offer  my  bride.  However, 
my  heart  is  yours  and  I  make  bold  to  offer  you  my 
hand,  pledging  you  my  best  service  in  all  good  faith, 
to  cherish  and  protect  you  while  I  live  if  you  will 
do  me  this  greatest  grace." 

2B 


4i8 

The  Sieur  de  St.  Aldegonde,  his  good  friend,  the 
prince  added,  would  answer  whatever  questions 
should  arise  and  would  plead  his  cause  in  all  honor 
and  sincerity. 

Clasping  the  letter  to  her  breast  Charlotte  rose, 
and  lifting  her  head  as  if  she  had  been  crowned, 
stood  in  the  sunset  light  streaming  through  the 
oriel  window.  No  words,  no  sound  escaped  her 
lips,  but  bright  tears  of  exquisite  joy  and  proud  hu 
mility  fell  fast  down  her  cheeks. 

"My  lord  and  prince!"  her  heart  cried,  "thus 
he  stoops  to  woo  me,  the  poor  fugitive,  the  home 
less,  disinherited  dependent !  He  hides  his  great 
ness,  and  makes  naught  of  his  fame,  setting  forth 
the  rather  all  that  should  bring  him  down  to  my 
poor  estate,  with  matchless  art.  Has  love  taught 
him  ?  Oh,  has  he  loved  me  long  ?  If  I  could  but 
know,  for  I — I  have  loved  him  forever,  and  forever 
shall  I  love!" 

But  suddenly  into  the  rapture  of  her  heavenly 
hoping  a  thought  sprang  which  stung  her  as  if  it 
had  been  a  poisonous  dart. 

Was  the  prince  a  free  man  ?  Had  she  a  right  to 
this  riot  of  joy  ? 

Until  that  moment  Charlotte  de  Bourbon  had  for 
gotten  the  existence  of  Anne  of  Saxony.  Had  the 
prince  too  forgotten  ? 


XXXVIII 
"A  SPIRIT,  YET  A  WOMAN  TOO" 

"\\ /ILL the  Sieur  de  St.  Aldegonde  attend  Made- 

y  Y      moiselle  de  Bourbon  at  once  ?  She  wishes 

to  speak  with  him  in  private  on  a  matter 

known  only  to  himself.     She  will  await  him  in  the 

east  gallery  of  the  Bibliotheksbau." 

St.  Aldegonde  stood  in  the  leaping  firelight  before 
the  magnificent  chimney  which  gave  grandeur  to 
the  Ruprechts  Hall,  musing  on  the  two-fold  mission 
which  had  brought  him  to  this  famous  court.  The 
elector  had  taken  him  straightway  up  from  the  town 
to  the  castle,  with  hospitable  tyranny,  and  he  was 
expecting  momentarily  a  summons  to  attend  him 
and  the  electress  at  the  evening  banquet. 

Turning  as  he  heard  himself  thus  addressed,  he 
saw  a  graceful  girl  with  serious  eyes  and  quickened, 
timid  breath  who  had  entered  the  room  with  noise 
less  steps,  and  who  stood  as  if  awaiting  instant  re 
sponse. 

"My  Fraulein,  shall  I  follow  you  ?  "  asked  the 
good  knight  courteously,  concealing  his  surprise  at 
the  unexpected  summons. 

A  motion  of  the  girl's  hand  was  the  only  reply, 
and  she  hastened  out  from  the  hall,  St.  Aldegonde 
closely  following. 

Passing  through  a  chill,  gloomy  passage  which 
led  to  the  northern  end  of  the  great  Ruprechtsbau, 
Jacqueline  Tontorf,  for  she  was  her  lady's  messen 
ger,  opened  a  door  at  its  farthest  extremity  and 
in  another  moment  St.  Aldegonde  found  himself  in 
the  great  Gothic  library  of  Heidelberg  Castle.  The 
eager  eyes  of  the  Holland  savant  could  discern  in 

419 


420 

its  dimly  lighted  recesses  the  endless  treasures  of 
folios,  manuscripts,  and  books  of  priceless  value, 
treasures  of  an  irresistible  attraction  to  him,  the 
scholar  and  poet.  But  Jacqueline's  slender  figure, 
gliding  swiftly  on  before,  forbade  him  to  linger. 
She  now  sprang  lightly  up  a  few  steps  to  a  door 
which  she  cautiously  opened,  beckoning  him  to 
approach. 

"Yonder,"  she  said,  speaking  for  the  second 
time,  and  pointed  down  a  long  gallery.  It  was 
flooded  by  the  cold  luster  of  the  January  moon 
whose  light  fell  through  the  tall,  arched  eastern 
windows.  "  My  lady  will  meet  you  at  the  foot  of 
the  turret  stairs." 

Wherewith  St.  Aldegonde  found  himself  alone  in 
the  moonlit  gallery,  for  the  door  into  the  library 
softly  closed  upon  his  girlish  guide.  Without  hesi 
tation  he  advanced  to  the  massive  octagonal  turret 
at  the  northern  end  which,  belonging  to  the  adja 
cent  structure,  the  Frauenzimmerbau,  in  which  the 
ladies  of  the  court  had  their  apartments,  abutted 
on  the  gallery  of  the  great  library.  As  he  neared 
the  small  pointed  doorway,  cut  in  the  thick  ma 
sonry  of  the  ancient  turret,  he  heard  a  slight  sound 
above  him. 

He  halted  where  he  stood,  gazing  at  the  narrow 
portal.  There  was  a  rustle  of  flowing  silken  gar 
ments,  footfalls  on  the  cold  stone  stairs  as  light  as 
the  moonbeams,  and  Charlotte  de  Bourbon  stood 
before  him.  Dressed  in  gleaming  white  silk  for  the 
evening's  festivity,  her  face  was  white  as  the  light 
drapery  which  was  drawn  about  her  head  and 
shoulders,  and  in  her  clasped  hands,  dropped  before 
her,  she  held  a  letter  with  a  broken  seal.  Her  large 
blue  eyes  were  fastened  full  upon  the  knight's  face. 

St.  Aldegonde  bowed  low,  amazement  and  some 
thing  akin  to  awe  making  him  speechless. 

Was  this  vision  the  blithe  laughing  maiden  whom 
he  had  encountered  a  few  hours  since  in  the  Kir- 


421 

mess  with  her  blushes  over  the  bold  words  of  the 
Romany  quean  and  her  deeper  blushes  when  she 
received  the  letter  from  his  hand  ? 

That  was  a  creature  of  flesh  and  blood,  with 
spirit  high  and  buoyant,  a  woman  joyous,  gracious, 
wholly  human  and  adorable.  This  was  a  being  of 
another  strain,  at  once  queenly  and  ascetic  ;  the 
princess-abbess  of  other  days,  cold  and  pale  and 
still,  her  loveliness  touched  with  a  tragic  loftiness, 
all  the  nun  within  her  looking  in  wondering  re 
proach  from  her  startled  eyes,  all  the  womanhood 
of  her  betrayed  by  the  trembling  of  her  sweet  lips  ; 
in  fine,  a  woman  who  believed  she  felt  the  first 
breath  which  had  ever  blown  upon  her  chastity 
and  that  from  the  lips  of  the  man  she  loved. 

"  Is  Anne  of  Saxony  dead,  my  lord  ?  " 

The  abrupt  words,  breathed  rather  than  spoken, 
had  in  them  a  most  moving  cadence  of  appeal, 
despite  their  imperiousness. 

"  She  is  thrice  dead  to  the  man  who  was  once 
her  husband,  your  highness,"  St.  Aldegonde  made 
answer  firmly. 

The  poet  in  him  discerned  as  by  a  lightning  flash 
the  movements  of  the  lady's  spirit.  He  divined 
from  the  very  accents  of  her  voice  that  she  loved 
his  lord.  Her  heart  stood  ready  to  surrender  to  his 
siege,  but  conscience  and  will  had  risen  to  arms. 

"If  it  please  you,  monsieur,  let  us  confine  our 
selves  to  facts.  Their  excellencies  await  us  both 
presently,  and  there  is  scant  time  to  deal  in  meta 
phors.  Is  the  Princess  of  Orange  dead  ?  Else  is 
this  letter  a  shame  and  affront  to  my  maidenhood,'' 
and  Charlotte  lifted  the  letter  in  her  hand  as  if  to 
return  it  to  its  giver,  but  in  the  very  act  her  hand 
fell  again. 

"Nay,  gracious  lady,"  cried  St.  Aldegonde, 
pierced  to  the  heart  thus  to  hear  the  honor  of  his 
adored  master  attainted  ;  "  let  it  not  be  said  !  let 
it  not  be  thought !  My  lord  has  loved  you  with  a 


422 

whole-hearted  though  silent  devotion  from  the  day 
he  saw  you  first  at  this  court.  He  plights  you  a 
pure  and  knightly  troth,  if  so  you  will  receive  it." 

From  the  lady's  eyes  slow  tears  fell  and  spar 
kled  in  the  frosty  moonlight. 

"  It  was  thus  I  read  his  letter,  but  I  had  forgot 
"  and  here  her  voice  faltered. 

"  Forget  now  and  forever,  dear  lady,"  cried  St. 
Aldegonde,  low  and  urgently  ;  "  it  is  right  to  forget  ! 
It  is  kindest,  best !  And  yet  a  word  of  explanation 
is  your  due.  The  former  wife  of  the  Prince  of 
Orange  is  not  merely  a  vicious  woman,  insane  by 
reason  of  intemperance,  as  you  have  doubtless 
heard,"  here  the  gentleman's  face  grew  stern  and 
his  voice  sank  to  a  lower  key.  "  Far  worse  than 
that  is  her  case,  albeit  the  truth  has  been  closely 
hid,  for  in  her  vain,  dissolute  frivolity  she  has  be 
trayed  her  husband's  honor  and  name  ;  she  has 
lived  in  shameless  violation  of  her  marriage  vows, 
and  to-day  she  is  as  dead  in  the  eye  of  the  law  of 
God  and  man  as  though  the  cell  in  which  she  hides 
her  madness  were  her  grave.  Her  very  life  is  for 
feit,  her  marriage  ties  are  annulled  by  her  crime. 
For  all  this  ample  proof  is  forthcoming.  You  little 
know  my  lord,  madame,  if  you  can  dream  that  he 
would  stain  your  maidenhood  by  the  offer  of  a  hand 
which  was  not  free.  The  Prince  of  Orange  places 
your  honor  far  above  his  own  desire,  his  own  hap 
piness.  Upon  this  Mademoiselle  could  even  have 
depended.  That  she  has  doubted  it,  pardon  me, 
shows  that  she  has  yet  to  sound  the  depths  of  his 
princely  nature,  and  of  a  patience  which  I  dare  to 
think  is  in  nothing  less  than  the  patience  of  God's 
holy  saints  and  martyrs.  For  my  lord  has  borne 
in  silence  and  in  secret  the  consequences  of  an 
other's  sin  beyond  the  last  verge  of  requirement, 
as  your  very  question  proves.  Nevertheless,  Made 
moiselle,  he  will  bear  this  burden  still  if  such  be 
your  decision." 


423 

St.  Aldegonde  paused,  his  arms  crossed  upon  his 
breast,  his  eyes,  grave  and  sorrowful,  searching 
Charlotte's  face. 

A  faint  smile  was  dawning  in  her  eyes,  was 
trembling  on  her  lips.  The  letter  was  hidden  now 
in  her  bosom.  Her  tense  limbs  relaxed,  her  stately 
head  drooped. 

"What  think  you,  Monsieur  de  St.  Aldegonde," 
she  murmured,  with  delicate  reserve;  "has  not 
my  lord  and  prince  merited  something  better  than 
that  at  my  hand  ?  " 

"  Mademoiselle,  to  my  thought  he  has,"  replied 
St.  Aldegonde  stoutly. 

"  Monsieur  says  that  the  prince  has — borne  me 
in  his  thoughts  these  several  years  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  highness.  That  I  know  surely  from 
his  own  lips." 

A  rosy  flush  mantled  the  lady's  cheeks,  hereto 
fore  so  pale. 

"  And  yet  he  has  not  spoken  ?  "  she  softly  said. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  the  brave  St.  Aldegonde  made 
answer,  something  almost  like  a  sob  smothered  in 
his  breath,  "the  dead  boy  we  loved  so  well,  our 
gallant  Louis,  the  ewig  Jung,  loved  your  ladyship, 
hoped  in  time  to  win  you.  My  lord  discovered  this, 
and,  as  beseemed  his  nobleness,  was  silent." 

The  lady's  eyes  grew  wide  with  wonder,  with 
awe  and  tenderness.  With  a  swift,  generous  ges 
ture  she  held  out  both  her  clasped  hands  toward 
the  man  who  had  so  well  known  how  to  plead  his 
master's  cause. 

"  I  am  not  worthy  the  love  of  so  great  a  man  !  " 
she  cried,  all  the  heart  of  her  breaking  in  pure  joy 
upon  her  voice,  "  but  tell  the  prince,  monsieur,  that 
my  devotion  to  him  outranks  his  for  me  in  years, 
for  long  before  I  ever  saw  him,  while  yet  I  was  in 
my  convent  at  Jouarre,  a  lonety  girl,  shut  away 
from  the  great  world  outside,  his  name  was  the 
name  of  all  men  living  which  ruled  my  thoughts." 


424 

St.  Aldegonde  listened  to  these  words  with  kin 
dling  eyes. 

"Nevertheless,  I  must  acquaint  Mademoiselle 
with  the  whole  truth.  There  are  some  things  that 
should  be  said,  as  that,  primo,  my  lord  is  no 
longer  young." 

"  Then  can  my  youth  be  the  more  welcome  gift," 
was  the  quick  response. 

"  He  is  poor." 

"  Then  are  we  the  better  mated." 

"  His  life  is  led  in  a  tumult  of  war  and  strife  and 
danger." 

"  The  greater  need  has  he,  then,  of  a  peaceful 
hearth  and  home  in  which  to  find  a  refuge." 

"  He  has  espoused  an  unpopular,  it  may  even 
be  a  losing,  cause." 

"  In  that  he  has  but  shown  that  he  is  greater  than 
other  men." 

"  His  is  no  light-hearted  temper,  your  nobleness  ; 
the  prince  is  a  man  of  many  sorrows  and  acquainted 
with  much  humiliation." 

St.  Aldegonde's  voice  trembled. 

"  In  this  he  is  like  our  blessed  Saviour,"  the  lady 
made  reverent  answer. 

"And  his  life — it  is  never  beyond  the  reach  of 
his  enemies.  He  lives  in  mortal  peril  at  every 
hour." 

"That  I  know,"  she  said,  with  a  look  never  so 
high-hearted,  "and  that  alone  would  call  me  to  his 
side.  Who  can  tell  but  God  would  have  me  not 
only  to  live  for  him,  but  also  to  lay  down  my  life 
for  his  sake  ?  " 


XXXIX 
"JE  MAINTIENDRAI  " 

AXONY  rages,  good   Philip,  and  Hesse  im- 
agines  a  vain  thing  !" 

It  was  the  prince  who  spoke  with  mild 
irony,  striding  up  and  down  his  private  room  in  the 
old  convent  of  St.  Agatha  in  Delft,  booted  and 
spurred,  plainly  about  to  depart.  St.  Aldegonde, 
who  had  just  entered  with  a  clouded  face,  was  lean 
ing  against  a  table  littered  with  numberless  docu 
ments  and  letters.  The  room  was  dusty  and  com 
fortless,  and  showed  the  lack  of  a  woman's  care. 
The  prince  was  sadly  missing  the  good  offices  of 
Madame  Tontorf.  It  was  April. 

"Yes,  the  landgrave,  I  hear,  is  positively  foam 
ing  at  the  mouth  at  the  prospect  of  the  divorce  of 
his  niece,"  rejoined  Marnix  seriously.  "You  have 
sacrificed  yourself  so  long,  my  lord,  to  screen  their 
family  pride,  the  scandal  has  been  kept  so  long  a 
complete  mystery  from  the  public,  that  the  lady's 
uncles  have  taken  it  for  granted  you  would  con 
tinue  to  do  so  to  the  bitter  end.  Not  that  they 
ever  thanked  you  for  your  silence,  as  far  as  1  have 
heard,"  he  added,  with  a  trace  of  bitterness. 

"  Not  they,"  returned  the  prince  lightly,  "  but 
they  can  curse  me  fast  enough  now  when  I  break 
silence  perforce.  They  deplore  and  protest,  depre 
cate  and  imprecate  in  good  German  and  bad  Latin, 
as  you  can  read  for  yourself,  if  you  will,"  and  he 
pointed  to  the  confusion  of  letters  on  the  table. 

"  Are  the  formalities  for  the  divorce  yet  com 
pleted,  my  lord  ?  "  asked  his  friend  with  ill-con 
cealed  anxiety. 

425 


426 

"No,  but  they  will  be  shortly,"  was  the  com 
posed  reply.  "  I  have  also  had  letters  to-day, 
Philip,  from  France,  forwarded  from  Heidelberg. 
The  elector  and  madame  wrote  most  warmly,  as 
before." 

"Ah,  yes,  they  are  surely  on  your  side.  But 
what  from  France  ?  What  says  Montpensier  ?  " 

"  He  sulks  in  his  tent  and  will  say  nothing.  He 
has  disinherited  and  disowned  the  maiden,  and  with 
that — enough  said.  France  is  non-committal,  '  not 
wishing  to  mix  himself  with  the  affair,  as  being  against 
his  religion.  Catharine  de  Medici  goes  so  far  as  to 
consider  Mademoiselle  fortunate  in  meeting  so  good  a 
parti,  and  will  not  take  the  marriage  in  ill  part." 

"  Cold  comfort  that." 

"  Navarre,  however,  gives  us  a  most  affectionate 
approval.  The  son  of  Jeanne  d'Albret  will  never 
fail  in  friendship  toward  Mademoiselle.  Young 
Conde  too  is  cordial." 

"Good  as  far  as  it  goes,"  said  St.  Aldegonde, 
"  but  I  fear  the  tactics  of  the  queen-mother  are 
likely  to  make  use  of  this  proposed  marriage  for 
further  alienation  of  the  French  government  from 
our  cause." 

The  prince  glanced  up  sharply  at  the  phrase 
*'  proposed  marriage  "  and  frowned. 

"Oh,  probably,"  he  said  carelessly. 

"  Meanwhile  1  have  had  this  from  John,  your 
brother,  my  lord,"  and  drawing  out  a  letter,  Mar- 
nix  read  the  hasty,  passionate  lines  :  "  'Dear  Alde 
gonde,  if  you  have  any  love  for  the  prince  and  for  the 
welfare  of  the  elector,  and  if  you  do  not  want  to  run 
into  danger  yourself ,  do  let  this  thing  be  delayed  for  a 
time.'  " 

The  Count  of  Nassau  proceeded  to  set  forth  with 
much  force  and  cogency  the  disastrous  results  which 
would  ensue  to  the  great  cause  of  Protestantism 
and  the  struggle  against  Spain  if  the  prince  per 
sisted  in  a  divorce  and  re-marriage  which  must 


427 

alienate  every  German  magnate  in  the  empire,  save 
the  Elector  Palatine. 

"  The  prince  listened  quietly.  He  had  seated 
himself  now  at  the  table  and  as  Marnix  concluded 
he  remarked  gravely : 

"  Yes,  John  is  in  despair.  I  can  match  that  let 
ter  with  half  a  dozen  here  in  which  he  fairly  weeps 
over  my  imprudence.  John  is  badly  frightened, 
and  I  am  not  sure  but  my  good  friend  Philip  is  as 
much  so,"  and  the  prince  smiled  slightly  at  the 
anxious  face  before  him.  "  My  brother  Calvinists 
here  in  the  Netherlands  have  their  fling  too,  at  me. 
'  This  man,'  they  say,  '  it  seems  can  change  his  wife 
and  his  religion  as  often  as  it  pleases  him.'  That 
is  not  exactly  the  gluckwunsch  a  man  would  choose 
for  his  marriage,"  and  the  characteristic  melan 
choly  became  more  marked  in  the  face  of  Orange. 

"  And  what  will  you  do  about  it  all,  my  lord  ?  " 
asked  St.  Aldegonde  impressively.  "  I  confess  that 
I  believe  John  right  in  the  matter.  This  Bourbon 
marriage  will  be  a  bad  blunder  politically,  however 
desirable  to  yourself  as  a  private  individual." 

The  prince  looked  at  his  friend  for  a  little  space 
with  a  peculiar,  imperturbable  smile. 

"  Philip,  what  think  you  I  am  likely  to  do  about 
it?" 

The  other  scanned  his  face  closely  and  replied 
briefly  :  "  You  will  marry  the  lady." 

"  Precisely — if  she  is  still  minded  to  have  me." 
Then  Orange  added  with  strong,  grave  emphasis : 
"  You  can  bear  me  witness,  old  friend,  my  intention 
has  always  been,  since  God  gave  me  any  understand 
ing,  not  to  trouble  myself  about  words  and  menaces  in 
anything  I  could  conscientiously  do  without  wrong  to 
my  neighbor.  Truly,  if  I  had  paid  regard  to  the 
threats  of  princes  I  should  never  have  embarked  in  so 
many  dangerous  affairs  contrary  to  the  will  of  the 
king  in  times  past.  The  time  comes  when  active  re 
sistance  with  the  grace  of  God  is  the  only  remedy. )y 


428 

"  And  this  is  such  a  time  ?  " 

"  It  is  even  so  now  with  my  marriage.  It  is  some 
thing  I  do  with  good  conscience  before  God  and  with 
out  just  cause  for  reproach  from  men.  I  firmly  be 
lieve  that  I  am  taking  the  right  course  not  only  for  my 
self  but  for  the  general  cause.  John  and  you  will  be 
the  first  to  admit  it  ere  long.  Further  than  this  I 
have  nothing  to  say,  believing  that  I  am  the  best 
judge  of  my  own  conduct.  This  you  can  write  to 
the  landgrave,  to  Saxony,  to  John  if  you  will,  but 
write  nothing  more.  For  me,  I  have  no  time  to 
write,  I  should  have  been  on  my  way  to  Middel- 
burg  a  half-hour  since." 

Aldegonde  bent  his  head. 

Whether  fully  convinced  of  the  political  wisdom 
of  the  Bourbon  marriage,  he  could  not  mistake  the 
iron  determination  which  lay  behind  these  quiet 
words  ;  he  read  it  in  the  compressed  lips,  in  the 
keen  but  quiet  light  in  the  eyes,  in  the  firmly 
closed,  flexible  white  hand  of  the  prince  as  it  lay 
on  the  table. 

He  rose  from  his  place. 

"  My  lord,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  of  whimsical 
resignation,  "you  are  in  love." 

"  True,  Philip.     Can  you  wonder  ? 

"  Not  I,  my  lord,  I  who  have  seen  the  lady." 

"Marnix,"the  prince  began  in  a  musing  tone, 
"  life  has  not  gone  over-easily  with  me  up  to  this 
day." 

"You  are  right,  my  lord." 

"What  think  you,"  he  proceeded  slowly,  his 
chin  lifted,  his  head  thrown  back,  a  brooding  dark 
ness  in  his  eyes,  "  might  it  not  even  be  pardon 
able  if  once,  just  once,  a  man  should  act  to  please 
himself  and  seek  to  bind  up  a  somewhat  bleeding, 
and  if  the  truth  were  known,  Philip,  perhaps  even 
a  broken  heart  by  the  touch  of  a  woman's  hand — 
a  sweet  woman,  my  friend,  with  a  pure  hand  and 
a  holy  ?  What  if  the  man  should  not  even  ask, 


429 

should  not  even  care  supremely  what  the  political 
effect  of  his  action  might  be  ?  Could  forgiveness 
be  found  for  such  a  wretch  ?  " 

"I  believe  it  could,  my  lord,"  returned  Marnix, 
mastered  by  the  charm  of  his  friend's  mood. 

"Then,  Philip,"  and  the  prince  rose  from  his 
chair,  the  brooding  smile  still  in  his  eyes,  but  a 
strangely  imperious  thrill  in  his  tones  as  he  spoke, 
"start  on  your  journey  for  Heidelberg  as  speedily 
as  you  may  !  March  roundly  now  in  this  matter  ! 
A  man  may  surely  be  in  haste  to  see  the  bride 
whom  he  has  not  seen  in  three  years.  Fetch  her, 
Philip,  as  fast  as  you  may  and  not  disturb  her  ease. 
Take  the  route  straight  down  the  river,  if  you  find 
it  safe.  It  is  easier  for  Mademoiselle,  quicker  also. 
And  Philip,  commend  me  to  my  lady  as  you  jour 
ney  with  such  good  will  as  you  may.  Speak  me 
fair,  good  friend.  She  will  have  heard  many  things 
hard  for  her  gentle  spirit ;  she  may  tremble  at  the 
life  before  her,  may  even  shrink  at  the  last  from 
joining  her  fate  to  so  stormy  a  one  as  mine." 

"Nay,  my  lord,  Mademoiselle  will  neither  trem 
ble  nor  shrink." 

"  Are  you  so  sure  ?  " 

"  The  lady  resembles  you,  my  lord,  in  this  par 
ticular  ;  she  is  of  an  excellent  high  courage.  Also 
she  is  very  deep  in  love." 

A  brilliant  smile  rewarded  this  deliverance.  Then 
with  a  salutation  of  gay,  ironical  gallantry,  as  grace 
ful  and  spirited  as  the  manner  of  his  youth,  the 
prince  hastened  to  leave  the  room.  St.  Aldegonde 
watched  him  from  the  window  as  he  swung  his 
slender,  flexible  body  with  one  leap  upon  his  horse's 
back  and  galloped  out  of  the  courtyard  on  his  long 
journey  to  Middelburg. 

"  Adorably  stubborn  person  !  "  he  murmured  to 
himself  with  a  grim,  reluctant  smile.  "  Now  then, 
back  to  Heidelberg  !  " 


XL 

THE  BOURBON  LILY  BLOOMS  IN   DUTCH  SOIL 

THE  Prince  of  Orange  knew  the  people  of  the 
Netherlands  better  than  any  man  living. 

His  deeper  insight  discerned  the  effect  upon 
them  of  his  proposed  marriage,  and  he  builded  bet 
ter  than  the  men  knew  who  prophesied  disaster. 
He  saw  that  in  the  land  itself  dwelt  the  secret  of 
its  salvation.  Long  ago  he  had  learned  that  the 
favor  of  princes  was  vain,  but  that  in  the  heart  of 
the  common  people  of  the  Provinces  was  stanch 
and  sturdy  constancy.  It  was  to  this  common  heart 
of  the  people  that  his  marriage  most  effectually  ap 
pealed. 

What  if  the  German  princes  took  counsel  to 
gether  and  said  :  "  If  Orange  can  afford  this  roman 
tic,  imprudent  marriage  with  a  dowerless,  escaped 
nun,  we  need  trouble  ourselves  no  longer  in  his  be 
hoof  "?  To  the  harried,  worn-out  people  of  the 
Provinces,  whose  only  hope  was  in  their  stadt- 
holder,  his  betrothal  gave  fresh  heart  and  courage, 
and  well  he  knew  it !  Let  the  German  princes  go, 
then,  if  they  must !  A  thrill  of  joy  ran  through  the 
fainting  land.  The  prince  would  bring  a  lovely 
lady  of  the  royal  house  of  France  among  them.  He 
would  establish  a  home  and  a  household  and  plant 
himself  more  deeply  than  heretofore  in  their  simple 
burgher  life  and  in  their  stricken  cities.  This  meant 
that  their  cause  could  not,  after  all,  be  hopeless. 
This  meant  that  he  committed  himself  wholly  and 
forever  to  that  cause  with  all  that  he  held  dearest. 
It  dispelled  the  haunting  fear  that  he  was  perchance 
after  all  a  free  lance,  striking  brave  blows  for  the 
430 


431 

Provinces  to-day,  but  ready  to  depart  to  another 
land  to-morrow  and  leave  them  to  their  fate. 

A  tenderer  sentiment,  moreover,  stirred  every 
where  and  found  frequent  expression,  for  dearer 
than  all  they  held  it  that  the  harsh  and  rugged  lines 
of  their  prince's  life  were  to  be  softened  and  beau 
tified  by  a  woman's  gentleness,  and  that  the  an 
guish  of  his  lonely  heart  was  at  last  to  find  noble 
consolation. 

It  was  therefore  with  joyous  anticipation  that  the 
Netherlanders  awaited  the  return  of  St.  Aldegonde, 
who  was  known  to  have  set  out  early  in  May  from 
Heidelberg  with  the  bride,  accompanied  by  a  goodly 
retinue,  as  befitted  the  state  of  the  adopted  daugh 
ter  of  the  great  Protestant  elector  and  a  princess  of 
the  house  of  Bourbon. 

On  the  yth  of  June  a  stately  barge,  adorned  with 
great  richness,  flower-laden,  its  mast  wreathed  with 
lilies,  under  escort  of  a  little  fleet  of  sister  ships, 
sailed  into  the  Dutch  port  of  La  Brille. 

On  the  deck  of  the  barge  stood  the  lilylike  lady, 
golden-haired,  tall  and  queenly,  dressed  all  in  white 
and  silver,  around  her  a  little  bevy  of  her  maidens, 
among  them  her  favorite,  Jacqueline.  On  her  right 
hand  stood  her  faithful  Christian  counsellor,  the 
Sieur  de  Minay,  on  her  left  the  prince's  advocate, 
the  Sieur  de  St.  Aldegonde. 

As  the  little  fleet  anchored  amid  thundering  salvos 
echoing  from  shore  to  shore  of  the  wide-mouthed 
river,  a  small  boat  put  out  from  the  crowded  jetty, 
and  a  stately  man  of  middle  age,  in  a  magnificent 
costume  of  black  and  gold,  with  the  order  of  the 
Fleece  upon  his  breast,  leaped  to  the  deck  of  the 
barge,  and  fell  on  one  knee  before  his  bride-elect. 

As  he  lifted  her  hand  to  his  lips  and  his  eyes  full 
of  love  and  worship  to  her  face,  the  fervent  cheers 
of  the  multitude,  the  blare  of  trumpets,  and  re 
newed  salvos  from  the  cannons  rent  the  air. 

Let  us  glance  back  at  the  quaint  words  of  the  old 


432 

chronicler  of  La  Jqyeuse  Entree  of  the  "  serene  and 
high-born  princess  "  : 

Blaze  forth  your  gladness,  you  cities  of  Holland  and  Zeeland  ! 

You,  men  and  women,  blaze  forth  on  every  side  your  joy 

In  honor  of  the  great  prince  and  of  his  consort  noble  and  re 
nowned  ! 

May  God,  who  has  accorded  them  his  grace,  continue  it  to 
them  evermore. 

When  the  chaste  and  noble  young  lady  entered  the  city  of 
La  Brille, 

Each  one  bade  her  welcome,  and  joy  burst  from  all  around  ; 

Fires  burned  on  the  towers  and  in  the  streets  both  night  and 
day  in  a  ravishing  manner, 

Not  a  voice  of  complaining  or  regret  troubled  the  general  ex 
ultation. 

Five  days  later,  being  the  twelfth  day  of  June, 
in  the  year  of  grace  1575,  in  the  parish  church  of 
La  Brille,  the  Princess  de  Bourbon  was  united  in 
marriage  to  the  Prince  of  Orange. 

That  day,  in  letters  of  gold  on  a  banner  of 
white,  was  borne  aloft  the  significant  motto  chosen 
by  the  prince  : 

"A  single  dawning  has  conquered  all  my  night!  " 


A  BRIEF  RECORD  OF  SEVEN  HAPPY  YEARS. 

[The  following  is  a  memoir  in  the  handwriting  of  Mevrouw  Ton- 
torf,  nee  de  fMousson,  inscribed  by  her  as  above.  This  record, pre 
served  in  the  archives  of  the  Tontorf-Hassalaer  family,  of  (Mid- 
delburg,  has  been,  by  their  kind  favor,  placed  in  the  hands  of  the 
writer  of  these  annals,  and  is  here  appended.] 

IT  is  the  seventh  anniversary  of  my  lady's  mar 
riage,  being  the  twelfth  of  June,  in  the  year 
1582.  I,  Jeanne  Tontorf,  am  sitting  here  in 
our  beloved  home  in  the  Lange  Delft,  known  now 
in  Middelburg  as  the  Heerenhnis,  and  being  alone, 
since  my  good  man  has  not  yet  returned  from  Ant 
werp,  my  mind  runs  back  over  some  of  the  scenes 
of  those  years,  and  the  strange  events  which  have 
taken  place  under  this  roof. 

I  have  come  even  now  from  bidding  good-night 
to  my  precious  little  princesses  in  their  white  beds. 
For  the  first  time,  to-night  I  can  say  that  I  am  glad 
that  I  have  no  child  of  my  own. 

In  this  room  where  I  write,  how  well  I  remember 
standing  with  Norbert  that  April  afternoon  seven 
years  ago,  ere  yet  we  dreamed  aught  of  the  pur 
pose  of  monseigneur.  The  sun  was  streaming  in 
through  these  windows,  and  we  were  busily  plan 
ning  how  best  to  order  the  room  for  his  highness' 
use,  when  we  heard  his  own  step  on  the  stair  and 
he  stood  before  us,  fine  and  lordly  in  the  open  door, 
whip  in  hand,  in  riding  costume,  plainly  just  off 
his  horse. 

We  had  not  looked  for  him  to  come  to  Middel 
burg  that  day,  and,  believing  him  still  in  Delft, 
our  surprise  and  gladness  were  the  greater,  but 
naught  to  what  should  follow. 

Never  had  I  seen  monseigneur  with  the  com- 
2C  433 


434 

manding,  masterful  air  he  wore  that  day,  the  while 
his  eyes  were  shining  with  a  most  marvelous  glad 
ness.  Every  vestige  of  his  illness  had  now  disap 
peared. 

"  Madame,"  he  said,  and  a  new  note  of  joyance 
rang  in  his  voice,  "  you  are  preparing  an  apartment 
for  my  use  ?  " 

I  replied  that  this  was  our  chief  concern. 

"  And  for  the  captain  and  yourself  ?  "  to  which 
I  answered,  yes. 

"  But  you  have  arranged  no  rooms  for  your 
lady  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  How  is  that  ?  " 

My  heart  almost  stopped  beating. 

"My  lady!"!  stammered.  "Mademoiselle  is 
in  Heidelberg." 

"  Very  true,  but  please  God  we  shall  see  her  ere 
long  in  Holland,  and  surely  a  room  shall  not  fail 
her  in  this  house."  Then  having  mercy  on  our  be 
wilderment:  "Yes,  good  friends,  give  me  joy! 
Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon  has  plighted  me  her  troth 
by  the  Sieur  St.  Aldegonde." 

I  cried  for  joy  as  1  never  cried  for  sorrow,  and 
even  Norbert's  eyes  were  dim.  It  seemed  too 
great  a  grace. 

Later  monseigneur  told  us  somewhat  of  the  bit 
ter  rage  and  opposition  which  his  proposed  mar 
riage  had  awakened  on  all  sides.  I  think  our  glad 
ness  touched  his  heart  very  deeply. 

Well  we  understood  that  Mademoiselle's  poverty 
and  friendlessness  did  but  appeal  with  far  greater 
force  to  his  chivalrous  heart  than  all  the  power  and 
wealth  of  thrones  could  have  done.  And  then  I 
knew  that  he  loved  my  lady.  Had  I  not  watched 
him  that  evening  in  Heidelberg  at  the  banquet  of 
the  elector  ?  Had  I  not  seen  the  look  in  his  eyes 
when  he  rode  away  the  morning  after  ? 

And  Mademoiselle  !  She  had  always  worshiped 
her  dream  of  the  prince  from  afar,  and  for  three 
years  her  whole  heart  had  been  his,  as  well  I 


435 

knew.  How  could  I  wait  to  see  her  joy  ?  But  the 
time  seemed  short,  so  full  were  we  of  happy  labor 
in  making  her  home  ready  for  the  bride. 

The  city  council  of  Middelburg  voted  a  generous 
annual  dowry  to  the  princess,  and  put  a  large  sum 
of  money  at  my  husband's  disposal  wherewith  to 
equip  this  house  with  rich  new  carpets,  tapestry, 
and  furnishings,  and  thus  ours  was  indeed  a  delight 
ful  task. 

Then  came  the  great  day,  and  we  went  to  La 
Brille  in  the  prince's  company,  and  after  monseig- 
neur  I  was  the  first  to  bid  my  lady  bienvemie.  I 
never  saw  her  so  royal  nor  so  beautiful  as  when 
she  stood  that  day  on  the  deck  of  the  barge,  white 
lilies  in  her  hand,  with  the  prince  kneeling  at  her 
feet. 

No  wonder  the  people  went  mad  with  joy  !  Their 
prince,  their  saviour,  who  had  suffered  such  un 
speakable  loss  and  sorrow  for  their  sakes,  who  had 
been  stripped  for  years  of  home,  of  wife  and  child, 
friend  and  brother,  was  at  last  to  find  joy  and  com 
pensation. 

But  even  they  could  not  know,  even  the  prince 
himself  has  never  known  until  now,  the  divine 
purpose  which  filled  my  lady's  heart  that  day,  and 
which  never  left  it :  to  guard  his  happiness,  his  life, 
at  the  expense,  if  need  be,  of  her  own,  to  ward  from  him 
that  doom  which  she  had  seen  written  on  his  brow ! 

Ah,  dearest  mistress,  purest  soul,  how  truly  hast 
thou  fulfilled  thy  purpose  ! 

We  were  at  Dort  with  their  excellencies  for  the 
great  nuptial  festivities  and  then  presently,  we 
going  on  before,  the  prince  brought  his  bride  to 
Middelburg,  and  the  venerable  Burgomaster  Held- 
ring  received  her  in  the  great  hall  below,  which 
Norbert's  family  used  to  call  the  Gossaert-Saal,  but 
which  is  now  known  as  the  Prinzen-Saal. 

How  the  bells  rang  out  all  over  Middelburg  that 
day,  and  the  banners  waved  from  the  abbey  and 


436 

the  Stadthuis  windows,  and  Gehke  Betje  and  Lange 
Jan  forgot  their  ancient  feud  and  rang  out  a  glori 
ous  carillon  in  pealing  unison. 

My  lady  from  the  first  moment  loved  our  dear 
adopted  country,  its  deep  green  fields,  its  soft  skies 
and  pearly  mists.  She  loved  the  brave,  true-hearted 
people  of  Holland  and  Zeeland,  their  rich  and 
stately  old  cities  girdled  by  broad  slow  rivers,  and 
best  of  all  she  loved  Middelburg  and  in  this  house 
she  found  her  truest  home,  so  she  ever  said. 

Great  joy  was  this  to  my  husband,  who  has 
been  indeed  fairly  glorified  by  this  consecration  of 
his  birthplace  to  the  use  of  the  two  persons  whom 
he  most  reveres  on  earth. 

But  the  other  towns  must  share  the  princely 
favor  and  it  was  almost  a  year  after  the  marriage 
before  their  excellencies  took  up  their  constant 
abode  with  us  here,  not  very  long  I  think  before 
the  death  of  the  good  Elector  Friedrich,  which 
caused  them  both  such  heartfelt  grief.  They 
brought  with  them  their  firstborn  little  daughter,1 
Louisa  Juliana,  just  two  months  old. 

Great  and  stirring  events  filled  the  year  which 
followed  and  many  a  great  edict  and  manifesto 
and  torrents  of  letters  of  State  were  written  in 
the  room  where  I  now  sit  alone.  Greatest  of  all 
was  the  pacification  of  Ghent,  a  very  master 
piece  of  diplomacy  by  which  the  prince  united,  alas, 
for  but  brief  time,  all  seventeen  of  these  provinces, 
pledged  to  resist  the  tyranny  of  Spain  and  to  toler 
ate  both  forms  of  religion.  (Religious  freedom  is 
ever  one  of  monseigneur's  chief  concerns  ;  even  the 
Anabaptists  share  his  sympathy  and  protection.) 
But  the  Southern  provinces  were  and  remain  at 
heart  Catholic  ;  fickle  are  they  and  easily  led  away, 
and  no  union  with  them  has  ever  proved  lasting. 

1  This  princess  married  in  ISQ?  Friedrich  IV.,  Elector  Palatine,  grandson 
of  Friedrich  III.  The  Electress  Sophia,  ancestress  of  the  house  of  Hanover, 
was  her  granddaughter,  and  Queen  Victoria,  of  Great  Britain,  was  thus 
ninth  in  descent  from  William  the  Silent  and  Charlotte  de  Bourbon. 


437 

For  inflexible  patriotism  and  steadfastness  in 
religion  the  prince  has  ever  need  to  look  to  the 
Northern  provinces.  Their  union  abides  firm  and 
stable.  We  believe  it  ever  will. 

It  was  after  monseigneur  and  my  lady  had  spent 
well-nigh  a  year  under  this  roof,  that  we  had  a 
strange  and  mysterious  visitor  who  spent  four  days 
with  us  that  spring,  but  departed  without  having 
accomplished  his  secret  mission.  This  guest  was 
Doctor  Leoninus,  a  savant  and  diplomat  of  Lou- 
vain,  and  he  was  sent  to  Middelburg  by  the  new 
viceroy,  Don  John,  half-brother  to  Philip  of  Spain. 
His  purpose  was  to  seek  to  win  the  prince  to  aban 
don  the  cause  of  the  Netherlands  by  every  flatter 
ing  promise  of  power  and  wealth  which  might  tempt 
an  ambitious  man  to  withdraw  from  an  endless  and 
hopeless  struggle  against  terrific  odds. 

My  lady  confided  to  me  as  well  as  to  the  Sieur  de 
Minay,  always  her  trusted  counsellor,  the  object  of 
the  very  learned  gentleman's  visit  and  we  watched 
with  some  secret  amusement  the  obsequious  and 
flattering  deference  of  the  guest,  in  whom  Spain 
was  in  reality  on  its  knees  before  the  prince,  and 
likewise  the  cold,  dignified  courtesy  of  his  host. 

Not  for  one  moment  did  it  enter  into  the  heart 
of  monseigneur  to  give  up  the  cause  of  this  poor 
fainting,  drowned-out  land  for  the  sake  of  his  own 
pardon,  or  power  and  exaltation.  Nay,  not  even  to 
recover  his  eldest  son,  kept  a  prisoner  in  Spain  all 
these  years,  would  he  do  this,  for,  as  he  quietly 
told  Leoninus,  he  had  "long  ago  placed  his  own 
particular  interests  under  his  foot  as  he  was  still  re 
solved  to  do  while  life  should  endure." 

Once  he  turned,  when  we  were  alone,  but  our 
guest  still  prolonging  his  visit,  and  said  to  Madame  : 

"Ma  mie," — it  is  thus  he  is  wont  to  address  her, 
— "  forgive  me  !  It  has  not  occurred  to  me  to  lay 
this  matter  before  thee  as  deserving  thy  considera 
tion.  Thou  knowest  the  mission  of  Leoninus. 


438 

What  sayest  thou  ?  It  would  in  sooth  bring  an 
end  to  all  our  troubles." 

It  was  the  only  time  I  ever  saw  my  lady  angry, 
but  there  was  no  loss,  since  monseigneur  found  her 
more  charming  than  ever  in  her  indignation.  So 
Leoninus  was  sent  back  to  his  master  Don  John, 
who  wrote  to  Philip  that  he  could  prevail  nothing, 
since  the  people  here  are  "  bewitched  by  the  Prince 
of  Orange.  He  is  the  pilot  who  is  guiding  this  bark, 
and  he  alone  can  lose  or  save  it.  The  greatest  obsta 
cle  would  be  abolished  if  he  could  have  been  gained 
over." 

Shortly  after  this  the  Spanish  troops  departed 
from  our  land  for  a  season  amid  the  wild  rejoicings 
of  the  people. 

Never  have  I  dreamed  of  a  life  so  purely  happy 
as  the  life  which  was  lived  by  our  household  under 
this  roof.  Perhaps  there  were  times  when  the 
Sieur  de  Minay  had  longings  for  our  own  fair  France, 
albeit  he  said  ever  that  life  without  his  princess 
would  be  scarce  worth  living,  but  for  me  my  heart's 
ease  was  too  full  for  longing.  Norbert  being  now 
captain  of  the  prince's  bodyguard,  was  ever  in  at 
tendance.  He  and  I  have  our  own  beautiful  apart 
ments  overlooking  the  Lange  Delft,  and  the  per 
vading  sense  that  this  sacred  place  is  our  home  fills 
us  with  abiding  gratitude,  while  there  has  been  a 
yet  higher  joy  in  knowing  it  the  actual  home  of 
their  excellencies.  To  them  our  whole  united  life 
has  been  given  in  a  service  which  we  both  hold  our 
chief  joy  and  honor. 

To  see  monseigneur  and  my  lady  together  daily 
in  the  sweet  habitudes  of  their  wedded  life  was  lit 
tle  less  than  glory  to  me.  The  charm  and  repose 
and  loving  spirit  of  Madame  seemed  ever  to  exert 
a  magical  spell  on  the  mind  of  her  husband,  through 
all  those  stormy  and  troublous  times.  Often  have 
I  heard  him  say  "What  a  happy  life  this  is  that  I 
live  with  thee,  Carlotta  !  "  and  add  that  she  had 


439 

given  him  all  the  true  happiness  his  life  had  ever 
known.  In  every  state  paper,  even,  where  he 
mentioned  her,  it  was  as  "our  very  dear  and  well- 
beloved  wife." 

However  perplexing  his  cares  of  State,  when  he 
entered  his  home  the  wearing  anxiety  would  leave 
his  brow,  and  in  place  of  the  sternness  of  his  mouth, 
which  indeed  after  the  death  of  Count  Louis  had 
become  almost  grim  and  harsh,  a  smile  of  gentle 
serenity  was  seen  oftenest.  In  very  sooth,  for  all 
his  greatness  never  saw  I  man  more  dependent  on 
love,  more  sensitive  to  womanly  sympathy,  than 
our  great  stadtholder. 

The  devotion  of  the  people  to  my  lady  was  bound 
less,  and  their  pride  in  her  modest  but  royal  loveli 
ness  was  often  touching  to  me.  She  gave  their 
poor,  starved  hearts  and  downtrodden  lives  the 
touch  they  needed  of  beauty  and  grace  and  sweet 
majesty.  "Ah,"  I  have  heard  men  say  as  she 
passed,  "the  Bourbon  blood  is  generous  and  right 
royal.  You  can  see  it  in  every  movement  of  Ma 
dame,  in  every  step  she  takes  !  " 

Wherever  sorrow  and  poverty  entered  in,  and  in 
truth  this  was  on  every  hand  in  those  days,  there 
my  lady  followed  with  gracious  gifts  and  her  own 
loving-kindness.  What  wonder  all  adored  her ! 

Ah,  they  were  blessed  years  to  us,  for  all  the 
public  cares  they  brought. 

Count  John  of  Nassau  (I  have  learned  he  was 
bitterly  opposed  to  monseigneur's  marriage),  after 
coming  to  Holland  and  sojourning  in  our  household 
wrote  that  he  found  the  prince  "  in  excellent  health, 
and  in  spite  of  adversity,  incredible  labor,  perplexity 
and  dangers,  in  such  good  spirits  that  it  makes  me 
happy  to  witness  it.  No  doubt,"  he  added,  "  a  chief 
reason  is  the  consolation  he  derives  from  the  devout 
and  highly-intelligent  wife  whom  the  Lord  has  given 
him — a  woman  who  ever  conforms  to  his  wishes  and 
is  inexpressibly  dear  to  him." 


440 

My  lady  completely  won  his  heart,  and  a  brave 
and  generous  heart  it  is.  He  has  given  all  that  he 
had  to  the  prince's  cause,  himself  with  the  rest. 

Soon  after  the  visit  of  Doctor  Leoninus  a  second 
daughter  was  born  to  their  excellencies  under  this 
roof,  and  great  was  our  rejoicing. 

The  Queen  of  England,  who  had  veered  around 
now  to  the  side  of  the  prince,  had  promised  to  stand 
sponsor  to  our  Middelburg  baby,  and  a  great  chris 
tening  feast  was  held  here  in  the  Stadthuis,  to  which 
many  guests,  including  the  burgomasters  of  Flush 
ing  and  Veere,  were  bidden.  Later,  in  Dort,  the 
child,  who  has  always  been  my  especial  nursling, 
was  christened  and  given  the  name  Elizabeth,  Sir 
Philip  Sidney,  an  equerry  and  favorite  of  the  Eng 
lish  queen,  standing  as  her  majesty's  proxy. 

On  this  occasion  we  all  were  deeply  touched  by 
the  resemblance  of  the  young  English  nobleman  to 
our  own  lamented  Louis  of  Nassau,  and  the  prince 
and  my  lady  gave  him  every  proof  of  deep  regard, 
for,  indeed,  monseigneur  says,  he  sees  in  him  one  of 
the  ablest  statesmen  in  Europe.  Sir  "Philip  has  ar 
dently  espoused  the  prince's  cause,  and  will  use  all 
the  influence  he  may  with  his  selfish  and  shifting 
queen  for  our  poor  Netherlands. 

In  the  autumn  of  that  year  my  lady  took  her 
little  children,  and  the  older  Nassau  children,  Marie, 
Maurice,  Anne,  and  Emilia,  who  had  been  brought 
by  monseigneur's  brother,  Count  John,  from  Dillen- 
burg,  and  removed  her  residence  for  a  time  to  the 
prince's  ancestral  castle  of  Breda,  so  long  in  the 
enemy's  hands,  but  now  restored. 

The  Princess  Marie,  a  charming  maiden  of  twenty- 
one,  came  straight  into  my  lady's  heart,  as  did  the 
younger  princesses,  and  it  was  beautiful  to  see  her 
motherly  and  yet  more  sisterly  tenderness  to  them. 
"All  our  children,  big  and  little,"  is  the  way  she 
ever  wrote  of  them  to  their  father.  The  young 
Prince  Maurice  is  a  handsome,  mettlesome  youth, 


441 

with  a  high  opinion  of  himself,  and  indeed  he  has 
much  intellect  and  a  wondrous  masterful  spirit. 
My  husband  often  speaks  of  being  at  Dillenburg 
Castle  on  the  night  when  he  was  born. 

After  this,  for  reasons  of  State,  the  prince  resided 
much  of  the  time  in  Antwerp,  for  a  year  and  more, 
and  there  my  lady's  heart  was  gladdened  by  the 
coming  of  the  Chevalier  de  la  Noue  and  other  French 
gentlemen,  who  now  attached  themselves  with  ar 
dent  devotion  to  the  service  and  court  of  monseig- 
neur.  Deepest  joy  of  all,  however,  was  it  that  the 
inexorable  coldness  of  her  father,  the  Due  de  Mont- 
pensier,  yielded  at  last  to  the  intercession  of  our 
dear  Madame  d'Albret's  son,  the  King  of  Navarre, 
who  espoused  my  lady's  cause  with  most  earnest 
zeal.  The  Due  acknowledged  her  again  as  his 
daughter  and  wrote  in  affectionate  and  honorable 
terms  to  her  husband  and  children.  Furthermore, 
he  has  issued  an  official  manifesto  as  peer  of 
France,  which  has  been  published  far  and  wide. 
In  this  he  declared  his  full  approval  of  the  marriage 
of  the  princess  and  his  grace  of  Orange,  as  being 
"  useful,  profitable,  and  honorable  for  our  daughter, 
and  for  the  state  and  greatness  of  our  house,"  and 
concluded  as  follows: 

"Wherefore  -we  request  and  require  the  Imperial 
Majesty  and  all  the  kings,  princes  and  sovereign 
potentates  with  whom  we  have  the  honor  of  being 
related  and  allied,  as  well  as  other  lords  and  princes, 
our  good  friends,  that  if  any  question,  trouble  or 
quarrel  is  spread  abroad  in  the  matter  of  this  said 
marriage,  or  to  the  prejudice  of  the  children  thereof, 
born  or  yet  to  be  born,  be  it  regarding  their  estate, 
condition,  or  otherwise,  it  may  please  them  to  take 
their  honor  in  hand  and  to  have  and  receive  them 
in  their  good  protection,  giving  them  such  comfort, 
aid  and  favor  as  all  princes  are  wont  to  use,  the  one 
toward  the  others,"  etc.  .  . 


442 

Thus  happily  ended  the  long,  one-sided  battle  be 
tween  the  proud  and  powerful  father  and  the  weak, 
defenseless  child  ;  and  it  was  the  latter,  after  all, 
who  won. 

Monseigneur  the  prince  had  not  been  slow  in  dis 
covering  that  my  lady's  wise  administration  of 
affairs  at  Jouarre  had  given  her  skill  in  the  direction 
of  public  matters.  Every  year  he  grew  to  depend 
more  upon  her  in  this  sort  and  she  frequently  acted 
as  viceroy  for  him  in  his  many  absences  from  Ant 
werp  and  ever  wisely  and  well. 

But  Antwerp  was  never  heart's  home  to  my  lady 
as  was  this  dear  Middelburg  Heerenhuis,  and  in 
truth  I  think  she  ever  dreaded  it  as  a  treacherous 
and  turbulent  town,  her  anxieties  for  the  prince 
being  always  keenest  when  he  was  there  and  out 
of  her  sight. 

So,  after  their  long  tarrying  in  Antwerp,  right  glad 
was  I  when  in  April,  two  years  ago, — it  seems  not 
so  long, — a  blithe  little  letter  from  my  dear  lady 
told  me  to  have  the  house  ready,  for  they  were  all 
coming  to  Middelburg  for  a  time. 

Great  preparations  were  made  in  the  city  to  re 
ceive  the  family  with  pomp  and  feasting,  but  me- 
thinks  no  hearts  were  so  glad  as  ours  as  we  made 
ready  the  beautiful  rooms  so  long  unused. 

When  the  first  excitement  was  over,  my  lady 
and  I  had  long  quiet  mornings  together  with  the 
children,  and  many  a  stroll  through  the  beautiful 
abbey  gardens  and  along  the  green  and  curving 
banks  of  the  city  moat  in  the  spring  sunshine,  the 
babies  and  their  nurses  coming  after,  and  all  so  gay 
and  joyous. 

It  was  thus  we  were  walking, — how  well  I  re 
member  it, — the  broad  waters  moving  swiftly  un 
der  the  April  breeze,  and  the  children  shouting  to 
us  that  the  bluebirds  were  singing  and  summer 
must  be  near,  when,  against  a  trunk  of  a  tree  my 
lady  chanced  to  notice  a  placard,  fresh  printed, 


443 

which  shone  white  in  the  sun,  and  with  never  a 
thought  of  dread,  straight  up  to  it  she  walked  and 
began  to  read. 

We  never  knew  who  placed  it  there.  After 
ward  they  were  common  enough,  sown  indeed 
like  evil  seed  in  every  city. 

For  this  is  what  my  lady  read,  her  face  growing 
ever  whiter : 

"  Philip,  by  the  grace  of  God,  King  of  Castile,  etc., 
etc.,  to  all  to  whom  these  presents  shall  come.  Whereas, 
William  of  Nassau,  a  foreigner  in  our  realms,  once 
honored  and  promoted  by  the  late  emperor  and  by  our 
selves,  has  by  sinister  practices  and  arts  gained  over 
malcontents,  etc.,  etc.,  .  .  and  whereas  he  has  taken 
a  consecrated  mm  and  abbess  in  the  lifetime  of  his 
own  lawful  wife  and  still  lives  with  her  in  infamy 
.  .  .  and  whereas  the  country  can  have  no  peace 
whilst  this  wretched  hypocrite  troubles  it,  .  . 

"  We  hereby  now  declare  this  head  and  chief  au 
thor  of  all  our  troubles  to  be  a  traitor  and  miscreant, 
an  enemy  of  ourselves  and  our  country.  We  interdict 
all  our  subjects  from  supplying  him  with  lodging,  food, 
water,  or  fire  under  pain  of  our  royal  indignation.  .  . 
We  empower  all  and  every  to  sei^e  the  person  and  the 
goods  of  this  William  of  Nassau  as  enemy  of  the  hu 
man  race ;  and  hereby,  on  the  word  of  a  king  and  as 
minister  of  God,  we  promise  to  any  one  who  has  the 
heart  to  free  us  of  this  pest,  and  who  will  deliver  him 
alive  or  dead,  or  take  his  life,  the  sum  of  25,000  crowns 
in  gold.  .  .  We  will  pardon  him  any  crime,  if  he 
has  been  guilty,  and  give  him  a  patent  of  nobility,  if  he 
be  not  noble,"  etc.,  etc. 

Every  word  of  that  infamous  Ban  was  burned 
into  my  brain  as  if  with  letters  of  fire.  It  was  the 
closing,  craven  stab  of  the  prince's  ancient  enemy, 
Philip's  evil  genius,  Granvelle,  and  envenomed 
with  his  hideous  hatred. 


444 

We  called  for  our  carriages  and  drove  home  in 
silence.  My  lady  did  not  cry  out  nor  faint,  but 
her  face  looked  as  if  carved  out  of  stone  and  I 
think  from  that  moment  she  never  doubted  what 
the  end  should  be. 

In  the  portico  stood  monseigneur  as  we  reached 
the  house.  I  knew  he  had  been  watching  for  my 
lady's  coming,  fearing  this  dastardly  placard  had 
met  her  eyes,  since  he  knew  it  to  have  reached 
Middelburg.  That  he  had  read  it  I  knew  on  the 
instant,  by  the  proud  way  he  held  his  head  and  by 
the  fire  in  his  dark  eyes. 

"  Come,  ma  mie,"  he  said  with  a  tenderness  un- 
tellable,  and  taking  her  hand  he  led  her  into  the 
Prinzen-Saal  and  I  saw  him  point  to  the  beautiful 
window  on  which  he  had  caused  her  arms  to  be 
blazoned,  within  a  wreath  of  Bourbon  lilies,  and 
the  motto  below,  "  Candidior  candidis." 

"  My  lily  !  "  he  said,  "  my  purest,  my  dearest," 
and  he  kissed  her  on  brow  and  lips. 

I  closed  the  door  softly,  and  came  away  to  weep. 

Life  has  gone  on  bravely  in  the  two  years  since 
then  and  we  all  have  sought  to  do  our  part  cheer 
fully,  and  no  one  ever  heard  a  murmur  pass  my 
lady's  lips,  but  we  have  wrought  as  under  the 
shadow  of  death.  The  prince  has  never  for  a  mo 
ment  faltered  or  failed  in  his  steady  courage,  put 
ting  the  whole  matter  by,  when  once  he  had  made 
answer  in  a  proud  and  dauntless  "  Apology." 

There  have  been  birth  and  death  and  marriage 
among  us,  for  two  little  daughters  have  been  born 
to  their  excellencies  ;  Count  John  of  Nassau  has 
been  married  to  our  dear  Heidelberg  princess  the 
Lady  Kunigunde,  and  sister  Jacqueline  has  left  us 
to  live  with  them  ;  while  the  venerable  Countess 
Juliana,  our  prince's  mother,  has  gone  to  those  so 
dear  to  her  who  died  for  God  and  country. 

Last  summer  a  great  and  solemn  deed  took  place, 
for  the  estates  of  the  United  Provinces  by  oath  ab- 


445 

jured  their  fealty  to  the  King  of  Spain  and  declared 
him  deposed  forever,  by  reason  of  his  intolerable 
tyranny,  from  the  sovereignty  of  the  Netherlands 
received  from  his  father  in  the  year  '55. 

God  grant  that  never  again  may  our  long-suffer 
ing  land  be  brought  under  that  cruel  yoke  !  No 
one  can  foresee  the  end.  The  Prince  of  Parma, 
the  present  Spanish  governor,  is  a  man  of  craft 
and  cruelty,  far  abler  than  Don  John,  a  powerful 
general,  and  full  of  subtle  scheming. 

The  sovereignty  of  Spain  being  now  set  aside, 
and  the  Provinces  free  and  independent,  monseig- 
neur  not  daring,  however,  to  believe  that  they, 
small  and  defenseless,  could  stand  alone  without 
the  protection  of  one  of  the  great  powers,  the  pro 
tectorate  had  been  offered  to  monsieur,  the  Due 
d'Anjou,  brother  to  our  French  king,  Henri  III.,  of 
Valois,  and  now  succeeding  his  brother  as  a  suitor 
for  the  hand  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 

Monsieur,  who  was  well  pleased  to  assume  the 
over-lordship  of  so  fair  a  domain,  accordingly 
marched  over  the  border  in  August  with  five  thou 
sand  gentlemen,  and  having  gained  considerable 
favor,  and  yet  not  wholly  won  over  the  estates, 
which  were  slow  to  put  their  trust  in  a  son  of 
Catharine  de  Medici,  betook  himself  presently  to 
England  to  woo  its  frigid  and  fickle  virgin  queen. 

In  November  we  heard  from  St.  Aldegonde,  who 
was  at  the  English  court,  that  the  royal  pair  had 
exchanged  rings  and  that  the  marriage  was  really 
arranged.  There  was  rejoicing  then  everywhere 
in  the  Netherlands,  since  such  alliance  would  give 
our  people  a  doubly  strong  defender ;  but  to-day  it 
seems  to  me  farther  off  than  ever.  Since  I  have 
seen  monsieur  I  would  wager  a  round  sum  that 
her  majesty  of  England,  who  has  the  handsomest 
man  in  Europe,  Robert  Dudley,  ever  at  her  feet, 
will  never  take  for  her  husband  the  ugly,  froglike, 
weak-kneed  youngest  son  of  Catharine  de  Medici. 


446 

It  is  just  four  months  ago  that  amid  the  greatest 
excitement,  monsieur,  with  his  suite  and  a  great 
following  of  English  noblemen,  given  him  as  escort 
by  the  English  queen,  entered  Middelburg,  having 
landed  the  day  before  in  Flushing,  crossing  from 
Dover,  thus  ending  his  sojourn  in  England,  known 
there,  they  tell  us,  as  "Monsieur's  Days." 

For  weeks  our  city  council  had  been  preparing 
for  the  event,  and  truly  monsieur  received  a  bril 
liant  ovation  as  he  entered  Middelburg,  for  every 
turret  of  our  Stadthuis  and  of  the  great  abbey 
blazed  with  torches,  the  order  being  given  also  that 
"  the  great  bell  shall  toll  and  pitch-barrels  shall  be 
burned  on  the  choir  of  the  abbey,  and  also  before 
his  excellency's  door,  and  on  the  market  place." 

Monseigneur  had  gone  to  Flushing  to  receive  the 
royal  party,  and  my  lady  had  brought  her  wee 
baby,  born  in  Antwerp  in  December  and  named 
Amalie  for  the  electress,  to  join  the  other  little 
children  whom  I  had  kept  all  winter  here.  She 
could  not  await  the  coming  of  the  Due  in  Antwerp, 
for  monsieur  was  to  bring  in  his  train  her  beloved 
brother,  Francois  de  Bourbon,  the  prince-dauphin, 
whom  she  had  not  seen  for-  all  these  long  years. 

He  was  lodged  in  the  abbey  with  monsieur  and 
the  gentlemen  of  his  suite,  but  made  all  haste  to 
the  Lange  Delft,  and  the  brother  and  sister  had  a 
most  affecting  meeting,  while  the  cannonading  and 
speech-making  and  banqueting  went  on  before  and 
within  the  Stadthuis.  How  we  rejoice  now  that 
this  long-cherished  desire  was  fulfilled  ere  it  was 
too  late. 

The  English  gentlemen,  the  Earl  of  Leicester, 
Sir  Philip  Sidney,  and  half  a  dozen  great  lords  be 
sides,  were  lodged  here  in  the  Heerenhuis,  which 
hud  been  excellently  re-furnished  for  their  use,  the 
many  chambers  surrounding  the  great  court,  of  old 
used  for  the  apprentices  and  the  printery  of  Nor- 
bert's  father,  Nikolaas  Tontorf,  having  been  wholly 


447 

made  over  and  transformed  into  goodly  order,  meet 
for  such  illustrious  guests. 

In  the  morning  following,  quite  without  premedi 
tation,  a  small  levee  was  held  by  my  lady  in  the 
Prinzen-Saal  with  all  her  little  children.  For  my 
Lord  of  Leicester  had  begged  that  he  might  see  the 
godchild  of  his  queen,  our  little  Elizabeth,  and  the 
other  children  of  their  excellencies  as  well.  They 
being  fetched,  my  lady  stood  with  all  her  babies 
about  her,  her  brother  at  her  side  watching  the 
pretty  troop  with  wondering  admiration. 

The  little  Elizabeth,  who  is  now  five  years  of 
age  (she  has  her  mother's  golden  hair  and  her 
father's  large  brown  eyes),  wore  the  diamond  and 
ruby  ring  sent  her  by  the  English  queen,  and 
held  out  her  tiny  hand  in  a  most  diverting  manner 
for  my  Lord  of  Leicester  and  the  rest  to  kiss. 

The  Sieur  de  Minay,  who  is  ever  in  accord  with 
me,  says  the  same — I  shall  remember  my  lady  for 
ever  as  she  stood  there  then  so  queenly,  albeit  so 
unconscious  of  herself.  She  was  ever  most  fair, 
most  serene  when  with  her  children,  for  only  then, 
I  think,  could  she  forget  that  dread  for  the  prince 
which  wore  ceaselessly  at  her  heart.  Her  color 
was  still  exceeding  delicate  from  her  late  confine 
ment,  but  the  joyous  excitement  had  brought  a 
pink  bloom  to  her  cheeks,  and  her  great  blue  eyes, 
as  divinely  innocent  as  those  of  her  children,  were 
shining  with  all  a  mother's  rapture  of  adoring 
pride. 

I  saw  with  what  reverence  my  lord  of  Leicester 
regarded  her,  and,  as  for  his  gallant  nephew,  Sid 
ney,  he  could  scarce  withdraw  his  eyes  from  her 
face,  and  methought  the  homage  of  his  look  ren 
dered  more  palpable  than  ever  that  strange  resem 
blance  of  his  to  Count  Louis.  It  is  my  own  fond 
belief  that  neither  gentleman  had  ever  chanced  to 
see  so  fair  a  pattern  of  all  wifely  and  motherly  ex 
cellence  as  was  then  before  their  eyes. 


448 

I  noted  Francois  de  Bourbon,  my  lady's  brother, 
as  he  turned  and  spoke  aside  to  Sir  Philip,  and  I 
heard  the  latter  gentleman  say  under  his  breath  : 

"  Purer  than  a  nun,  patienter  than  Griselda, 
prouder  than  our  English  queen." 

It  was  then  that  monseigneur  entered,  coming 
from  attendance  upon  the  Due  at  the  abbey,  and 
found  the  English  noblemen  thus  gathered  around 
his  wife  and  their  children.  Not  less  deferentially 
than  they,  and  methought  with  a  grace  that  ex 
ceeded  them  all,  his  highness  quietly  greeted  Ma 
dame,  and  as  he  bent  and  kissed  her  brow,  I  at  least 
caught  the  radiance  of  their  mutual  glance,  and  I 
saw  my  lady  in  that  moment  crowned  with  a  nobler 
crown  than  her  majesty  of  England  can  ever  wear. 

Then  presently  monseigneur  was  fain  to  carry 
my  lord  of  Leicester  hence  to  the  abbey  to  confer 
with  the  Due,  and  with  them  went  the  other  gentle 
men  and  my  lady  also  withdrew  with  her  children. 
But  Sir  Philip  Sidney  begged  me  to  abide  yet  a 
little  and  keep  the  Princess  Elizabeth  in  his  sight, 
that  so  he  might  the  better  report  her  pretty  prattle 
to  his  mistress.  Accordingly  I  was  present  while 
he  talked  with  the  Sieur  de  Minay  and  with  my 
husband,  for  as  was  to  be  expected,  the  child  was 
soon  overlooked  for  graver  concerns. 

"How  chanceth  it,  monsieur,"  quoth  Sir  Philip 
presently,  "that  his  grace  of  Orange  hath  attained 
so  rare  a  height,  for  verily  the  man  puts  greatness 
away  from  himself,  as  a  thing  for  which  he  hath  no 
relish,  and  yet  seems  withal  but  the  greater  and 
more  imposing." 

"Your  lordship,"  replied  the  good  d'Averly, 
"  the  Prince  of  Orange  shows  in  the  highest  degree 
what  life  can  do  with  a  man  who  by  the  grace  of 
God  has  made  a  glory  of  failure  and  a  majesty  of 
defeat." 

"  How  mean  you,  monsieur  ?  "  responded  Sidney, 
his  face  showing  inteqt  interest. 


449 

"  Your  lordship  has  but  to  remember,"  said  the 
Sieur  de  Minay,  "  that  the  prince  began  life  a  grand 
seigneur,  an  aristocrat,  a  monarchist  to  the  core. 
His  morals  were  those  of  the  court  of  Charles  V., 
his  statesmanship  was  that  of  Machiavelli,  learned 
in  the  same  court ;  he  was  of  vast  wealth  and  am 
bition,  and  up  to  the  time  Granvelle  left  the  Nether 
lands,  singularly  successful." 

"  Where,  1  pray  you  tell  me,  sir,"  interposed  Sid 
ney,  "  did  his  reverses  begin,  for  in  England  he  is 
not  reckoned  a  highly  successful  man  ?  " 

"They  began," returned d'Averly  slowly,  "when 
he  took  into  his  heart  the  seed  of  revolt  against 
political  and  religious  tyranny.  It  was  a  seed  which 
germinated  slowly,  but  which  has  grown  to  be  the 
governing  force  of  monseigneur's  life.  It  has  made 
him  great,  but  his  greatness  has  been  won  not  by 
brilliant  successes,  but  by  slow  stages  of  deepest 
suffering.  Every  ambitious  scheme,  every  flatter 
ing  hope  has  been  successively  crushed  and  brought 
to  naught,  and  bitterest  of  all  has  been  the  faith 
lessness  and  betrayal  of  his  friends.  But  it  was  in 
the  depth  of  defeat  that  the  true  chivalric  spirit  of 
the  man  shone  forth,  for  it  was  then  that  he  emptied 
himself  of  selfish  schemes  and  personal  ambitions, 
put  away  power  and  prerogative  forever,  and  sunk 
himself  utterly  in  the  forlorn  hope  of  wrenching 
this  exhausted  land  inch  by  inch,  town  by  town, 
from  the  tyranny  of  Spain.  Can  you  name  a 
knightlier  deed  in  the  high,  ancient  sense  in  which 
the  perfect,  gentle  knight  pledged  himself  to  redress 
all  wrongs,  to  fight  for  the  defenseless,  and  never  to 
seek  his  own  good  or  gain  ?  Here  he  planted  him 
self,  establishing  a  household  of  such  noble  sim 
plicity  as  your  lordship  sees,  calling  to  his  side  my 
own  beloved  lady,  a  homeless,  dependent  maiden 
as  great  of  nature  as  himself.  With  magnificent 
coldness  he  has  rejected  the  many  attempts  to  win 
him  by  promises  the  most  seductive,  of  power  and 

2D 


450 

grandeur,  to  forsake  these  poor  Provinces,  which 
almost  against  his  own  will,  he,  the  monarchist,  has 
welded  into  a  republic.  He  has  scorned  alike  bribe 
and  ban,  and  will  maintain  the  freedom  of  this  new 
born  republic  even  if  it  costs  life  itself.  But,  even 
now,  who  can  foresee  the  issue  ?  " 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Sir  Philip,  who  had  listened  with 
deep  emotion,  "  the  prince  is  fighting  the  battle  of 
freedom  not  for  these  Provinces  alone,  but  for  the 
human  spirit.  He  may  die,  but  he  cannot  fail  !  " 

Five  days  the  great  folk  tarried  here  in  Middel- 
burg  and  then  went  on  in  splendid  state  to  Antwerp. 
My  dear  husband  attended  them,  while  I  remained 
with  the  children  of  their  excellencies  here.  Nor- 
bert  has  associations  so  gloomy  with  Antwerp  that 
he  never  goes  there  I  believe  save  with  a  presenti 
ment  of  evil,  and  so  it  was  this  time  ;  but  besides 
him  all  were  full  of  gladness. 

Just  one  month  from  the  day  that  they  entered 
Antwerp  in  triumph,  the  festivities  being  now  over 
and  the  prince  chiefly  concerned  in  presenting  Mon 
sieur  d'Anjou  to  his  new  people  in  as  favorable 
seeming  as  might  be,  the  blow,  so  long  dreaded,  fell 
upon  us.  The  Ban  at  last  has  begun  its  work. 

On  Sunday,  March  the  eighteenth,  our  prince  was 
shot  through  the  throat  and  jaw  and  mortally 
wounded  as  all  believed,  by  a  mysterious  man  of 
vulgar  aspect,  who  presented  him  with  a  petition 
as  he  passed  from  dinner  with  his  guests.  The 
assassin  was  killed  on  the  spot,  being  pierced  in 
thirty-two  places  by  the  halberdiers. 

I  have  heard  the  whole  terrible  story  now  from 
Norbert,  and  most  amazing  is  it  to  him  even  above 
others. 

While  the  excitement  following  the  attack  was 
still  at  its  height,  my  lord,  as  was  supposed,  dying, 
my  lady  going  from  one  swoon  into  another,  each 
man  looking  upon  each  with  suspicion,  as  a  possible 


accomplice  in  a  dark  plot,  and  all  believing  that 
Monsieur  d'Anjou  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  treach 
ery,  with  another  Valois  conspiracy  akin  to  Bar 
tholomew,  Norbert,  as  captain  of  the  prince's  body 
guard,  was  called  by  St.  Aldegonde  into  a  close- 
locked  ante-room.  It  was  next  that  in  which  lay 
the  body  of  the  murderer. 

"Hither,  Tontorf !  "  he  cried,  his  hands  full  of 
papers.  "  Upon  your  faith,  thank  God,  I  can  rely  ! 
and  you  can  keep  a  cool  head.  Take  a  look  with 
me  at  these  dirty  belongings  of  yonder  wretch. 
They  are  the  contents  of  his  pockets.  Let  us  get 
speedily  to  the  bottom  of  this  business  and  find  if 
that  infernal  bullet  was  French  or  Spanish." 

They  spread  the  collection  out  upon  a  table — an 
Agnus  Dei,  a  green  wax  taper,  two  dried  toads, 
used  as  charms,  a  number  of  bills  of  exchange,  a 
Jesuit  catechism,  a  set  of  tablets  scrawled  over 
with  vows  to  divers  saints,  and  I  forget  what  be 
sides.  My  husband  scanned  the  bills  narrowly 
and  suddenly,  with  I  know  not  what  fierce  impre 
cation,  exclaimed  : 

"  Instantly  !  let  me  see  the  body  !  " 

At  the  inner  door,  on  guard,  stood  young  Prince 
Maurice,  white  as  the  dead,  but  cool  and  unflinch 
ing,  directing  all  that  was  done.  Reluctantly  he 
permitted  Norbert's  entrance. 

For  a  moment  my  husband  stood  gazing  fixedly 
at  the  hideous  form  of  the  murderer,  a  strange  sense 
of  something  familiar  in  his  face  growing  ever 
stronger.  Then  with  a  swift  rush  of  memory  and 
a  countenance  which  men  say  was  terrible,  he  cried  : 
"  It  was  no  French  but  a  Spanish  bullet!  There 
is  no  Valois  plot !  I  know  this  fellow  !  His  name 
was  Juan  Jaureguy,  and  he  was  sent  to  do  his  foul 
deed  by  that  Spanish  devil,  Caspar  d'Anastro  !  " 

With  that  he  burst  from  the  place,  called  the 
guard  together,  and  marched  them  straight  to  the 
Rue  d'Augustin,  and  to  that  house  of  evil  memory, 


452 

where  he  and  poor  little  Jacqueline  were  so  long 
imprisoned,  fifteen  years  ago. 

At  the  door  they  were  met  by  the  man  whom  I 
believe  of  all  men  Norbert  most  abhorred,  the  cash 
ier  Venero,  the  tool  whom  Anastro  used  before  for 
his  murderous  purposes.  Except  the  paramour  of 
Anastro,  the  members  of  the  merchant's  family 
had  returned  to  their  old  habitation  within  the  year 
and  quietly  established  themselves. 

"Arrest  that  man  on  the  spot!"  my  husband 
thundered,  and  pressed  his  way  on  into  the  house, 
giving  Venero  in  one  look  a  prophecy  full  stern  of 
the  retribution  which  was  waiting  on  his  evil  deeds. 

In  an  inner  room  they  found  another  whom  Nor 
bert  recognized,  the  padre,  Antony,  who  on  the 
other  terrible  occasion  had  absolved  Venero  before 
his  crime  was  committed,  and  who  had  just  per 
formed  the  same  diabolical  office  for  the  scant-wit- 
ted  scullion,  Juan  Jaureguy.  Him  Norbert  remem 
bered  as  a  poor,  half-starved  urchin  about  the  house. 
This  friar  they  promptly  arrested.  For  the  arch- 
conspirator,  the  cold,  calculating  coward,  Anastro, 
they  sought  in  vain.  The  crafty  Spaniard,  too 
wary  to  risk  his  own  life,  had  taken  his  passport 
and  left  Antwerp  on  the  preceding  Tuesday,  and 
was  even  then  safe  under  the  protection  of  the 
Duke  of  Parma,  who  gloried  in  his  deed,  which  was 
then  fully  believed  to  be  successful. 

Venero  has  made  a  full  confession  in  my  hus 
band's  presence. 

Anastro,  it  seems,  hard  pressed  and  greedy  for 
gold  as  ever,  stimulated  by  the  Ban  had  entered 
into  a  compact  with  King  Philip  to  take  the  prince's 
life  within  a  certain  period.  If  successful  he  was 
to  receive  eighty  thousand  ducats  and  the  cross  of 
Santiago.  He  had  compounded  with  Venero  and 
Jaureguy  to  do  the  deed,  convincing  them  that  the 
prince  deserved  death  for  the  crime  of  Ihe-majeste. 
He  had  fooled  the  latter  into  believing  that  he  could 


453 

render  him  invisible  by  his  magic  arts,  as  soon  as 
the  murder  was  committed.  He  promised  to  make 
both  miscreants  his  sons  and  to  divide  his  property 
between  them.  In  fine,  he  had  played  upon  their 
fidelity,  their  superstition,  and  their  cupidity  until 
they  were  powerless  to  resist  him.  And  yet  he  has 
gone  unpunished,  and  these  poor  wretches  alone 
have  suffered  the  penalty. 

Of  a  surety  I  can  say,  our  prince  is  the  first  gen 
tleman  in  Europe  !  When  he  was  shot,  a  prayer  for 
mercy  for  Jaureguy,  a  cry  that  he  forgave  him  his 
death,  were  his  first  words.  Then  later  it  was  his 
earnest  desire  that  these  accomplices  be  not  tor 
tured  before  their  death,  while  he  was  far  less  con 
cerned  as  to  his  own  recovery  than  to  shield  Mon 
sieur  d'Anjou  from  suspicion.  As  ever,  his  thought 
was  for  himself  last  of  all,  and  first  of  all  it  was  for 
our  land  and  its  weal  ;  his  sufferings  were  borne 
with  an  incredible  sweetness,  and  his  noble  spirit 
seemed  to  conquer  even  the  approach  of  death  that 
so  he  might  still  live  to  save  his  people. 

As  for  the  people  of  Antwerp  and  of  all  our  cities, 
they  thronged  their  streets,  crying  aloud  with  sobs 
and  tears  for  their  prince,  their  father,  their  only 
shield  and  succour.  Meanwhile,  Anastro,  safe- 
shielded  in  Parma's  camp,  was  writing  exultant  let 
ters  to  King  Philip,  assuming  the  full  success  of  his 
plot,  and  greedily  craving  his  reward. 

On  Wednesday,  there  being  then  as  it  was 
thought  no  hope,  all  Antwerp  held  a  solemn  fast 
and  the  churches  overflowed  with  the  weeping  peo 
ple  flocking  to  them  to  pray  for  monseigneur. 

A  week  later,  and  the  execution  of  Venero  and 
the  friar  having  taken  place  in  the  square  opposite 
the  town  hall,  it  was  then  thought  the  prince 
showed  signs  of  mending.  This  continued  until 
April  fifth  when  renewed  hemorrhage  from  the 
half-healed  wound  made  a  danger  graver  than  ever. 
This  peril  was  overcome  by  means  of  the  pressure 


454 

of  the  thumb  of  his  attendants  upon  the  wound 
which  was  continued  day  and  night  for  more  than 
a  week. 

My  lady,  who  had  rallied  as  soon  as  she  found 
there  was  a  ray  of  hope,  could  hardly  be  persuaded 
to  leave  her  lord  for  an  hour.  Her  hand  was  the 
one  oftenest  at  his  service,  and  it  was  her  love 
which  slowly  brought  him  back  to  life.  But  even 
the  strength  which  love  gave  her  sometimes  failed 
under  the  terrible  suspense,  and  many  a  time  she 
was  borne  away  fainting.  Day  by  day  I  could  see 
her  body  decline  until  nought  of  her  seemed  left 
alive  save  the  puissant  spirit.  But  meanwhile  for 
monsiegneur  hope  grew  stronger  and  became  cer 
tainty,  so  that  on  the  second  day  of  May  all  Ant 
werp  again  gathered  in  the  great  cathedral  and  the 
joy  bells  rang  out  over  all  the  city  for  a  general 
thanksgiving. 

The  prince  was  restored.  He  could  even  go  with 
the  multitude  to  the  cathedral  to  join  in  the  voice 
of  praise.  But  my  lady  ?  Ah,  no,  that  joy  was 
not  for  her. 

He  came  gaunt  and  wasted,  but  never  so  impo 
sing,  and  kissed  her  ere  he  left  the  house.  She 
was  standing  by  a  window  to  watch  his  going  forth. 

"Ma  mie,"  he  said,  with  infinite  tenderness, 
"thy  cheeks  are  paler  now  than  mine.  While  the 
others  praise,  I  shall  pray  for  thy  better  health. 
God  be  with  thee,  sweetheart,  who  hast  saved  my 
life  by  thy  love  and  faithfulness." 

"Farewell,"  she  said  and  smiled,  and  her  smile 
was  of  an  unearthly  sweetness,  full  of  strange 
triumph  and  yet  sadder  than  any  tears  I  ever  saw 
in  mortal  eyes. 

Then,  the  prince  having  gone  forth,  my  lady 
turned  to  me  and  with  a  long  sobbing  breath 
moaned  like  a  beseeching  child  : 

"  Take  me  now,  Jeanne,  faithful  friend.  I  can 
bear  no  more.  Take  care  of  thy  poor  Charlotte." 


455 

Soon  we  had  her  in  bed  and  the  physicians  were 
sent  for  and  came  hurrying  back  to  that  sorrowful 
house,  but  she  was  even  then  unconscious,  and  in 
three  days  the  end  came. 

The  murderers  did  not  fail  of  a  victim. 

Once  only  she  seemed  to  know  monseigneur  and 
then  she  smiled  in  his  face  that  strange  smile  of 
ineffable  triumph. 

"Sweet  to  die — sweet  to  die — for  thee,"  she 
whispered,  "  it  was  for  this  1  prayed." 

Then  the  strong  man  bent  himself  upon  her  bed, 
shaken  from  head  to  foot  by  his  agony  of  yearning. 

It  was  four  o'clock  and  surrrise  when  she  died. 

They  laid  her  in  the  great  cathedral,  in  the  Chapel 
of  the  Circumcision,  where  the  chimes  shall  ring 
forth  their  music  forever  over  her  grave,  and  all  the 
city  and  all  the  land  wept  that  "so  beautiful  a 
soul"  had  left  its  mortal  dwelling. 

Weeks  have  passed  since  I  began  to  indite  this 
record.  It  was  mid-June  then  and  now  it  is  mid 
summer,  and  continually  I  have  been  going  back  in 
mind  to  that  last  midsummer  of  our  convent  life, 
eleven  years  ago. 

Again  it  is  the  forest  of  Fontenay  ;  Jeannette 
and  I  have  gone  thither  with  Mademoiselle  ;  Count 
Louis  is  there,  the  queen-mother,  the  Majesty  of 
France.  Down  the  vista  of  the  green  forest  glade 
again  I  have  seen  the  girlish  figure  of  my  lady,  dis 
tant  and  wraith-like,  and  by  her  side  the  noble  lord 
of  Teligny.  They  bend  toward  each  other  in  ear 
nest  speech,  but  suddenly  in  the  path  before  me 
stands  the  mysterious  Romany  woman  and,  as  I 
follow  her  fixed  gaze,  I  dimly  discern  other  two  ; 
beside  my  lady  walks  the  form  of  a  goodly  knight 
(a  form  which  to-day  1  know  full  well)  beside  Te 
ligny,  a  woman,  whose  face  1  cannot  see,  who 
wrings  her  hands. 

The  gypsy  at  my  side  is  singing  now — 


456 

"  Sharp  speeds  for  him  life's  close ; 
Myrtle  for  her  and  rose — 
Yet  death  apace." 

Alas,  over  soon,  over  well  for  Teligny,  for  my 
lady,  has  that  woful  song  found  fulfillment  ! 

But  there  was  a  second  strophe,  of  yet  stranger 
and  more  bitter  boding.  Must  it  too,  then,  know 
fulfillment  ?  Is  there  another  act  in  the  tragedy  of 
these  lives  ?  Ah,  to  my  lord  the  prince,  what  shall 
be  the  end?  I  know  only  that  he  seems  still  to 
stand  within  the  shadow,  and  that,  to  my  sight,  the 
seal  of  martyrdom  has  never  left  his  brow. 


THE  END. 


[In  the  last  will  and  testament  of  that  very  high  and  puis 
sant  lady,  Charlotte  de  Bourbon,  Princess  of  Orange,  done 
on  the  twelfth  day  of  November,  in  the  year  of  grace  1581,  in 
the  city  of  Antwerp,  the  first  legacies  named  are  as  follows  : 

"  To  the  Sieur  de  Tontorf  and  to  his  wife,  twelve  hundred  florins 
outright  and  two  hundred  livres  income  during  their  lives  in  con 
sideration  of  the  good  services  which  I  have  received  from  them, 
and  especially  from  the  said  wife,  who  has  served  me  with  such  care 
and  fidelity  for  the  space  of  twenty  years  that  1  have  great  cause  for 
satisfaction  therewith.  For  this  reason  I  very  humbly  beg  my  lord 
the  prince  to  have  regard  to  this  and  to  retain  the  said  Tontorf  m 
his  service  with  the  compensation  hitherto  given  him,  &c.  .  .  I  de 
sire  that  it  shall  please  him  also  to  keep  Madame  Tontorf  in  at 
tendance  on  our  children  with  the  customary  consideration  which  I 
give  her. 

"  /  leave  also  to  the  Sieur  de  Minay  three  hundred  livres  income 
during  his  life,  besides  twelve  hundred  livres  to  be  paid  at  one  time  as 
J  have  already  ordered,  in  recognition  of  the  service  which  he  has 
rendered  me,  having  accompanied  me  from  France  into  Germany 
and  having  stood  by  me  three  years  in  Heidelberg  in  order  to  assist 
me  in  my  affairs  ;  wherefore  I  very  humbly  beseech  monsieur  the 
prince,  my  husband,  to  give  him  the  use,  during  his  life,  of  the  lands 
of  Mont  fort,  Cuisseaux  and  TSeaurepere,  situated  in  the  Duchy  of 
Tlourgogne,  with  honorable  maintenance"] 


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